Green Eyes on the Prize
by Anubis Soundwave
Summary: A summertime adventure set in the Deep South. A prequel to SEVEN YEAR JOCK ITCH.
1. Would God judge a man?

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

Prologue A: Would God judge a man for the color of his skin?

"Foley," hisses Lucretia Gray, a full-figured black woman.

Demetrius Foley, a lanky black male with brown eyes, rolls his eyes at Lucretia. "You know how paranoid crackers is about a pair of niggers hanging around outside at night," he grins. "Why we out here?"

Lucretia scowls. "Follow me, you idiot," she spits.

Returning the scowl, Demetrius complies, following Lucretia into a small shed outside a plantation.

Inside the shed, a doctor finishes his exam of a young black adolescent female.

Demetrius glowers at the doctor.

"The doctor ain't did nothin' to Jeanette," says Lucretia, grave.

"Doctor..." says the girl, Jeanette, weakly. "Please tell me. I...I can bear it."

"Bear what?" asks Demetrius.

The doctor sighs. "The girl is with child," he says.

Demetrius shakes his head in disbelief. "We all 'bout to leave," he says. "Jeanette-girl: you, your daddy, and Alvin...you all goin' with me to travel with Moses."

"Boss cracker know all about Tubman," says Lucretia flatly.

"How!?" balks Demetrius. "Alvin and Jeanette-girl both know how to keep their mouth shut, and Aldridge sure as hell can't say shit-even if he wanted to. Where they at, anyway?" Demetrius continues.

"D...daddy's digging near the peach orchard," says Jeanette, "and Alvin-Alvin...!" Her words are choked back with sobs.

"He dead, Demetrius," says Lucretia. "Alvin Aldridge Foley is dead."

"No...no..." breathes Demetrius, trembling.

"And then Ol' Jackie gone and tup-*" continues Lucretia, wincing as she stares at Jeanette's belly.

"No!" roars Demetrius, consumed with rage; he snatches off the doctor's gun holster and pulls out the pistol. "I'll kill him-I'll kill the sorry-ass cracker tonight!"

The doctor blinks. "I heard nothing," he mutters, "and I saw nothing."

"Don't be a shit, Foley!" spits Lucretia, grabbing the pistol from Demetrius' shaky hands. "You done try that before. I done try it before. You and I both know Ol' Jackie got one foot in the grave-and we sure as hell can't take him by surprise."

"What am I supposed to do, Miss Creechie?" demands Demetrius. "I ain't standin' around to take no more shit from Barrineau. No more!"

"Uncle Demetrius," says Jeanette. "Daddy and I will just hold you back."

"I...I can't leave y'all here!" counters Demetrius. "Cracker done took almost my whole family from me: Simon, Theodore, and now Alvin! All my little nephews: he killed Simon and Theodore right in front of-*"

"You don't have to tell me," says Jeanette, sullen as she slowly sits up. "I was there: for all of it."

"Jeanette-girl," groans Demetrius. "I want to set you free."

"Then take that gun out of Miss Lucretia's hand," says Jeanette, trembling, "and shoot me in the head..."

Lucretia embraces Jeanette as Jeanette weeps; she presses the younger woman's head on her shoulder. "No, girl," says Lucretia softly. "Don't let him win like that. Be strong."

Demetrius and the doctor stand silently as Lucretia gently rocks Jeanette to sleep, Demetrius glowering at the doctor.

The doctor adjusts his spectacles. "I suppose you think I share in the blame of this," he says soberly.

"Every white man, woman, and child in this nation will bear the blame for this," says Demetrius, "even after the Lord delivers us from your chains of bondage, and even after He pours out his righteous fury upon thee: your children, and your children's children, shall all be held to account."

"Would God judge a man for the color of his skin?" asks the doctor gently.

"No," says Demetrius, "but I do. I judge every white who has ever turned his back and did nothing against this evil: from the day my ancestors were dragged here from West Africa, to this moment, here and now," he continues, "your people have either made us suffer, or let us suffer."

The doctor rubs his arms.

"So drop on your knees," says Demetrius, "and thank the Lord every day of your life, that vengeance is His, and not mine. And if you don't believe in the Lord," he continues, "then you'd better start."

Lucretia rolls her eyes. "Sometimes, sir," she says to the doctor, "Mr. Foley fancies himself a preacher: failing to realize that the Lord only caused an ass to speak once."

Demetrius pouts. "Shut up, Miss Creechie," he says.

* * *

"Call me back," says Tubman simply. "Give the chilin' inside them Gray and Foley gals some time to grow."

Demetrius nods, grief and anger on his face.

Tubman nods to a group of fugitive slaves; they rise to their feet and slip out through the back door of an abandoned barn behind Baxter Farm.

Alone in the barn, Demetrius drops to his knees...and weeps.

* * *

NEXT: A funky Phantom trip to the 1980s!


	2. Whatever it takes

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

Prologue B: Whatever it takes...

Annoyed, Jack knocks on his dorm room door.

"Please take it easy on him," says Maddie. "You know he's still moody about his acne."

"Even so," says Jack, fuming, "V-man's timing is shit! I didn't even get to ask you to marry-*"

"Yes," says Maddie; she kisses Jack briefly, then smiles.

Jack blushes, a sheepish grin on his face. "That's not how marriage proposals are supposed to work," he says.

"I know, hon," says Maddie, "but I'm glad you said something now. Any later, and we'd be in a wedding chapel in Arkansas."

"Yeah-where your misandrist sister would have me at gunpoint for a literal shotgun wedding," grins Jack wryly.

"No sense in having her future nephew or niece out of wedlock," says Maddie.

"I agree," says Jack; he strokes Maddie's cheek. "So," he drawls, "since we're more-or-less betrothed right now: do you want to practice making a family...?" Jack kisses Maddie's neck.

Maddie coos, trembling as she gently nudges Jack away.

"Whoa-too soon!" grins Jack. "Maybe after we figure out what the hell Vlad wants."

Vlad opens the door, a huge and cheeful smile on his face. "Come in!" he says, pulling Jack and Maddie inside the dorm room.

* * *

"Boundaries, V-man. Boundaries," says Jack as Vlad finishes his spiel, blithely handing Jack an opened letter.

"You were just going to trash that," counters Vlad, "like all the other letters. Besides, you had RETURN TO SENDER marked on it," he adds, "and you sent back the return receipt card."

"No: you sent back the card after you forged my signature," says Jack.

"And it's a good thing I did, Jack," pouts Vlad, "because you were about to send away your golden ticket to Easy Street. As to why I'm pushing you to do this?" he adds.

"That's a good question, pal-one I was just about to ask you," says Jack, wearing a thin smile.

"Simple. You owe me, Jack," says Vlad, "after I put up with that shitty Jersey Devil venture."

"That was your idea, V-man," says Jack.

"Don't vex me with details or give me any of your lip," admonishes Vlad, wagging his finger.

"You jackass: if you'd just get the dollar signs out of your eyes for a minute," says Jack, "then I'd be happy to explain why I don't want to sell."

"No! I'm not letting you piss away guaranteed, free money-and that's final!" fumes Vlad.

"We're talking about property I inherited...located in Georgia," snorts Jack. "In order to do anything about it," he continues, "I'd-*"

"Yes! As usual, I'm way ahead of you," grins Vlad. "I've got our rental van parked outside, buddy," he continues, grabbing a backpack and a duffel bag, "so I'll be waiting for you."

"And what am I supposed to wear?" asks Jack quizzically, resigned to Vlad's latest scheme.

"Just get your normal shit for summer, plus that hideous burnt orange formal suit," says Vlad. He exits the dorm room.

Maddie sighs. "At least he's being _creative_ when he acts out," she says wryly.

Jack gives Maddie an exasperated look, then pulls out his burnt orange suit.

* * *

A few hours later, Jack parks the white rental van in front of the gate to a large estate, with a sign over the gate.

"Barrineau Plantation," says Jack simply.

Vlad rubs his hands with glee.

"I have yet to understand your excitement about all of this," says Jack, annoyed.

Jack opens the gate, he and Vlad look inside.

Vlad's eyes widen in shock. "There's...no building," he says.

"Which I'll note that I told you when we started this stupid road trip," says Jack.

Vlad shakes his head, squaring his shoulders. "Jack, think: Oglethorpe Springs is some hick town in the Deep South," he says. "The people here want to purchase a piece of ancient antebellum Southern history from you-they'll pay you _millions_ no matter what ratty condition it's in."

"Come on, Vlad," scoffs Jack. "The antebellum house that would have had some kind of historical value was burnt to the ground during Sherman's March; there's nothing here but these peach trees. Nobody in their right mind wants to buy this place."

"These are Southerners, Jack; they're never in their right mind," says Vlad.

Jack slaps his forehead.

"Hell, Dmitri and I co-owned a small parcel of historical property on Sullivan's Island with nothing but palmetto trees and one scraggly, rotten oak," Vlad continues, "and we cleared over $400 thousand after taxes. Compared to that, this scenic property-with an Indian burial site beneath a lake and a nicely kept peach orchard-is worth far more."

Jack touches his chin. "So...how much was Dmitri's cut?" he says.

"Ten percent, because his credit's always shit," says Vlad dismissively, "so the property was legally in my name."

"Wow. Way to show brotherly love," says Jack sardonically.

"Don't give me that look, Jack; that was fair,' says Vlad. "It was his idea to purchase the property, which is why he got any money at all."

"You're so generous," says Jack in a flat, deadpan affect.

"Of course," says Vlad, smug.

Jack rolls his eyes.

"And you're a lucky bastard; you inherited the damn place from your maternal ancestor," grins Vlad. "Her family had paid the taxes on it before they all died off, so after estate and probate gets their cut, you'll be swimming in cash. Naturally," Vlad continues, his eyes bright, "you'll be kind enough to spot your buddy Vlad a few G's for urging you to take the plunge."

Maddie enters the plantation, struggling with ghost tracking equipment.

Jack and Vlad rush to help Maddie.

"Maddie," says Vlad, "this isn't one of _those_ trips. We're just sightseeing an ordinary property," he continues, "which will make Jack a very wealthy man."

"Now, Vlad," counters Maddie, pouting. "Southern towns like this are always a hotbed of spectral activity."

"You mean this place could be haunted!?" says Jack, excited.

Maddie nods.

"If I didn't already love you," grins Jack, "I'd love you to death!" He kisses her briefly, then rushes out of the plantation.

"Jack, where the hell are you going!?" fumes Vlad.

"To get my gear!" calls Jack.

"But we left our ghost-hunting crap at the dorm!" says Vlad.

Jack reenters the plantation, carrying more ghost tracking gear.

"Why, Madeline?" winces Vlad. "Why encourage this...?"

"Come on, Maddie!" says Jack, eager. "Let's start with the peach orchard."

"The peaches are out of season," says Maddie, "so that's a good starting point."

Jack and Maddie head towards the peach orchard.

Vlad gives a disgusted snort, then shakes his head and heads toward a small wood.

* * *

"Hon," asks Maddie, worried. "How many peaches are you going to eat?"

Jack stops mid-bite, on his thirteenth peach. "Damn," he says, noting the peach pits on the ground. "These are good peaches. Best I've ever eaten. I don't think I could eat canned peaches anymore after..." Jack trails off...

...as Maddie waves a scanner over him.

Jack laughs. "I'm not possessed, Maddie," he grins, "and I don't think there's anything supernatural about fresh fruit being delicious."

"I know: watch the thin line between paranormal study and superstition," says Maddie. "Just remember that superstition has a kernel of truth to it."

Jack sighs. "Unless I start rambling on about bourbon in a Southern accent," he scoffs, "I think I'll be fine."

"What was the owner of this place like?" wonders Maddie.

"He was a plantation owner in the antebellum South," says Jack, grave. "You do the math."

"You don't feel that you have the right to profit from this place, huh?" asks Maddie.

"I'm thinking of selling all of it to the locals for a penny," grins Jack. "This place would be a money pit for anybody to maintain."

"Be serious, hon," admonishes Maddie.

"Besides," continues Jack, smirking, "it would serve Vlad right for being a greedy ass."

Maddie giggles.

Jack presents Maddie with his half-eaten peach. "Want a bite?" he asks.

Maddie shakes her head. "No forbidden fruit for me, thanks," she says. "Especially since you've eaten over half of it."

"Oh," drawls Jack, "so you're jealous that this place is trying to horn in on your forbidden fruit action." He embraces Maddie.

"Nice try, Jack," quips Maddie, touching Jack's cheek, "but Eve was set up to take the blame."

"Right. What else was Adam supposed to do-live without his missing rib?" grins Jack. Dropping the half-eaten peach on the ground, he starts to kiss Madeline...

...but notices a figure in tattered rags sitting beneath a peach tree.

"Hon...?" asks Maddie.

"Let's...toss fruit salad later," says Jack, unnerved by the figure's intense stare. "Someplace without an audience."

* * *

Vlad shivers as he enters an area within the wood; a lake in the center of the clearing gives off a faint, eerie glow.

"Why am I so fucking cold!?" spits Vlad. "It's the middle of Spring Break!"

Vlad rubs his arms as he walks around. "It's bad enough that Jack's being damned rube as always," he continues. "Hick Southern towns like this always lie about ghost hauntings to troll for hapless tourists."

"Still," he adds, "I'll be damned if I let that lummox try to sell this place to the hayseeds here on the cheap. I'm getting my money's worth from this trip!"

"Good sir," says a voice crisply, "you should be grateful that our townsfolk are willing to take this wretched burden of a place from the good Mr. Fenton's shoulders."

Shuddering as his feeling of cold increases, Vlad turns to the source of the voice...

...and clamps his hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

"I perceive that you sense my presence," says the source of the voice, a bedraggled figure crucified to a tree.

"Y-yes..." stammers Vlad. "You're obviously a ghost," he continues, trembling, "and it's quite obvious how you became a ghost."

"And how did you come to be a ghost, sir," asks the ghost, "seeing as you are still alive?"

"That...is a long and very stupid story I don't want to trouble you with," says Vlad. "Frankly, you've suffered enough as it is."

"Actually," sighs the ghost, "I consider this to be a light affliction: a fitting punishment for a criminal such as myself. The others here, innocent people, have suffered far worse."

_Others...?_ Vlad stares at the ghost. _Jack can fuck himself with a rusted fork!_ he seethes silently. _It's just peachy that the one time we're not here to hunt for ghosts, the damn place is actually haunted._

"What...crime have you committed," asks Vlad after a moment, "that warrants being nailed to a tree?"

"I believe, good sir," says the ghost, "that introductions are in order. I am Joshua Caleb Barrineau," he continues, "the eldest son of Jacob Noah Barrineau."

"So you're a plantation owner," says Vlad, his panic subsiding. "The 'innocent people' you're referring to," he continues, "are the slaves you had owned."

"_They_ did not do this to me," says Joshua sternly.

"Take it easy, Josh!" says Vlad. "My name's Vladimir Leonidovich Masters, but you can call me-*."

"Your English is impeccable," says Joshua in Russian.

"And your Russian is better than mine," responds Vlad, flabbergasted, in his best Russian. "I'm American," he continues in English, "but my parents are from the Ukraine."

"Sorry," says Joshua. "I had studied abroad in Russia and the Ukraine for two years when I was in college."

"And you're excited whenever you get to use the Russian you've learned," grins Vlad.

Joshua nods. "I apologize for my attitude earlier," he says. "I think I like you after all."

"That's...good to know," says Vlad.

"Therefore, Vladimir," continues Joshua, "you, Mr. Fenton, and your lady acquaintance should all depart from this place."

Vlad touches his chin. "I agree with you, Josh," he says, twirling his index finger in the water; he studies the intensifying glow. "I don't want us anywhere near this place if I can help it."

"Then you'll definitely want to watch out for Jackie," says Joshua.

"And who the hell's 'Jackie'?" asks Vlad.

"He's the belligerent fellow who chose to nail me to this tree," says Joshua wryly, "that I should suffer the passion of the Lord."

"Really, Josh? What's your connection to him?" asks Vlad, unsure if he wants to know the answer.

"Jackie's my younger brother: the man who killed my father and dear sister Jessica to inherit this property," says Joshua. "Jackson Daniel Barrineau."

"That...would make you..." begins Vlad.

"Mr. Fenton's great-uncle-a few generations removed," says Joshua.

Vlad laughs, nervous. "Oh, shit," he hisses inaudibly. "I'll...just leave you to your day," he says aloud to Joshua. Vlad flees.

* * *

Several minutes later, Vlad narrowly avoids colliding into another person, who grabs Vlad to stop him.

"Take it easy, Vladimir, my good man," says the person.

Vlad trembles, still feeling the unnatural chill, even as the person's voice sounds familiar, yet different...

"Where's the fire?" asks the person.

Vlad blinks as he looks up at the other person, staring in disbelief. "Jack...?" he gasps.

"That's what you call me," grins the person.

Vlad sighs, a combined feeling of relief and frustration washes over him. "Jack, what the fuck are you wearing!?" he balks, staring at the man. "That salmon Colonel Sanders suit looks even worse than the hideous burnt orange suit you brought here."

"Jack" glowers at Vlad. "Sir," he says coldly, his Southern accent more pronounced, "I humbly ask that you cease addressing me as though I'm an imbecile. Even for a damned Yankee," the man continues, "your incivility is disgusting."

Vlad shivers, his teeth chattering. "I-it's clear that you're not Jack Fenton," he stammers, noting the wedding band. "For one thing," he continues, "as much as I love my buddy, he's nowhere near smart enough to make it into Harvard."

The man smiles, smug as he glances at a class ring on his left ring finger, above his wedding band.

"You...are 'Jackie', aren't you?" says Vlad, struggling to keep himself from whimpering.

Jackie nods. "You're damned sure not going to sell my property," he grins, "unless you want to end up like Joshua."

"Oh, of course not!" says Vlad. "It's not my property to sell-I couldn't sell it if I wanted to. By all rights-*" Vlad continues.

"Legally, it belongs to Jack-boy," sneers Jackie. "Jackson Daniel Fenton: a big, moody Yankee with fine taste in women-that I would hazard to say he inherited from yours truly. Along with my land, which I won't allow that damn fool boy to sell either."

Vlad sighs. "You, being dead, don't have a choice in the matter," he says. "It's up to 'Jack-boy', as you call him, to decide."

"I'll be the judge of that," says Jackie. "For now," he continues, licking his lips, "I wouldn't mind getting a taste of that sweet peach of a gal L'il Jack's got for himself."

Vlad blinks at Jackie, recognizing an all-too familiar look of lust in Jackie's eyes. "N-no," he spits, squaring his shoulders. "You won't harm Madeline, asshole."

Jackie laughs. "If it weren't for your ghost sense, Vladimir," he says, "you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between me and Jack-boy. Yet you call yourself his friend."

"Fuck you," hisses Vlad. "It's bad enough that Maddie's marrying him instead of me. I'll be damned if she compounds her horrendous mistake because you want to play Invasion of the Jack-snatchers!"

"What the hell are you going to do to me?" snorts Jackie.

Vlad gives Jackie a crude grin as his right hand glows with red spectral power. "This," he answers, firing a bolt of the power directly at Jackie's face.

Jackie...giggles. "That...that tickles!" he chortles.

"T-tickles...?" stammers Vlad. _I managed to terrorize a whole frat house with that during Halloween!_ he balks silently.

"You're obviously a neophyte at this," says Jackie, "so let me learn you, boy." With that, Jackie returns fire with a bolt of green spectral energy.

Vlad yelps, vanishing in a puff of smoke.

* * *

Two hours later, in his motel room, Vlad clutches a pillow over his ears.

_You'd think that they'd just wait until after the wedding,_ he says balefully to himself.

_Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?_ adds Vlad ruefully. _I'm just tasting bitter salt that I'm not in the big lucky bastard's place. That sweet, wonderfully moist place between Madeline's..._

Vlad roars wordlessly. _They're fucking without a care in the world,_ he seethes, _while I'm trying to think of a way to save them both from Jack's evil, deranged ancestral twin._

_Okay, Vlad: think,_ he muses, trying to ignore the faint sounds of coitus filtering through the thin wall between his motel room and Jack's. _There's an evil ghost haunting the plantation. Jack, being the moronic Dudley Do-right he is, would never sell this property if he knew it was haunted..._

_Wait... That's it! All Jack wants me to do is give up on trying to sell the place,_ says Vlad to himself, _and all the maniac haunting the place wants is for it not to be sold._

_As much as I'd hate to lose out on free cash,_ fumes Vlad silently, t_he fact is that Jackie will likely raise hell to stop the sale-which would have me waste the rest of my Spring Break here in Humidity Hell with Jack and Maddie trying to take Jackie out with our sorry homemade ghost-hunting shit._

_Then again... I sure as hell don't want to lose out on the money,_ Vlad continues. _Especially since Jack is in the heaven of Maddie's thighs, savoring orgasms that should be mine. He owes me!_

"Fuck it," says Vlad aloud. "I'll figure it out."

* * *

"V-man," says Jack, "you look like shit."

"Did you get any sleep?" adds Maddie. "You look exhausted."

"I...was up a bit too late," says Vlad. "Anyway, I've looked all over the property," he adds, "and I haven't seen a single ghost."

"So...?" asks Jack.

"There's no need for us to waste any more time here," groans Vlad. "You can give me all of your 'I told you so' sass in the van."

"Let me just lock the gate, then," says Jack.

A small, elderly black woman wearing glasses touches Jack's forearm. "Excuse me, sir," she says politely. "You're Mr. Jack Fenton, am I right?"

Jack blinks at the woman, startled. "Yes, ma'am," he says.

The woman looks over Jack. "Mm. You is definitely kin to Ol' Jackie," she says. "Look just like him." Pouting, she pinches Jack.

"Ow!" yelps Jack, pulling his arm away.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fenton," smiles the woman. "I just wanted to see how lively you are."

Jack blinks at the woman.

"Look here: let's just cut to the chase," continues the woman, handing Jack a check. "Take that check, sign this," she continues, giving Jack a property deed, "and leave that property to the town."

"Excuse me, ma'am," says Jack, "but if I'm going to do business with you, I'd like to know who you are."

"Please forgive me," says the woman. "I'm so frustrated over this shit that I done forgot my manners. My name," says the woman, "is Mary Jane Foley. My church wants to purchase the plantation for ministry work."

_"Ministry work"_, scoffs Vlad silently. _The damn place needs an exorcism._ Vlad notes the check. _And so all I need to do is convince my good lummox to take the money and run like hell._

"This...is quite a bit of cash, Mrs. Foley," says Jack.

Vlad cuts in, pulling Jack aside. "Jack: it's just an old Southern plantation. These kind people want to preserve their heritage," he continues, snatching the check out of Jack's hands, "and will pay you handsomely for the opportunity."

"I'm not taking church money from a little old lady," says Jack, taking back the check.

Mary Jane shakes her head at the two men.

Jack approaches Mary Jane, returning the check. "I-* he begins."

"Hang on! Excuse me, Ms. Mary Jane," says a young sandy-haired man wearing a Texas A &amp; M T-shirt and khaki shorts. He pulls a blank check out of his pocket.

Mary Jane gives the newcomer an exasperated look.

Jack blinks at the young man. "Shouldn't you be playing Nintendo, kid?" he asks.

"Sold mine," says the young man, grabbing Jack's hand and pulling him aside as he presents the blank check to Jack. "Anyway, my name's Shane Baxter."

"I know," says Jack. "You've sent me so many letters," he adds with a grin, "so it's good to meet you in the flesh."

"Good to meet you too, Mr. Fenton," says Shane. "Now, look: whatever she's payin', I'll pay double!"

Vlad's ears perk at Shane's words. "May I hold this, Mrs. Foley?" he asks Mary Jane.

"Yes," says Mary Jane. "Please convince your friend to sell the plantation."

"Oh, I intend to," says Vlad.

Just as Jack starts to open his mouth, Vlad cuts in, showing Shane the check.

Shane gives Jack an obstinate pout. "All the more reason why you need to let me pay double," he says. "You ain't takin' Ms. Mary Jane's money away from her church."

"I don't want to take her money," says Jack, equally-obstinate, "or yours."

"What do I need money for?" fumes Shane.

"You need yours for college, man!" scoffs Jack. "Texas A &amp; M can't be cheap."

"I'm on a full football scholarship and two academic scholarships," grins Shane.

"He's on a gravy train!" hisses Vlad to Jack. "You're not taking money from him at all. Let him buy it!"

"Mrs. Foley offered three million for the place. I doubt this kid's piggy bank seriously has six million in it," says Jack.

Two young black people, a young man with a moustache and a young woman, approach the group.

The woman shoves Shane aside. "Move the hell out the way, Shane!" she spits.

"Bethea, no!" fumes Shane. "I've got this covered. My dad's backing the money."

"Put that shit towards your books, boy," pouts Bethea. "The Grays are going to buy this place."

The young man sighs. "My name's Damon: Damon Gray," he says, presenting a check. "My cousin Bethea and I," Damon continues, "are conducting genealogical research."

"And you're willing to pay $15 million for it?" asks Jack, skepticism in his voice.

"You can't put a price tag on history," says Damon, calm yet tense. "For me, I'm just paying my ancestors back for their sacrifices...to set them free."

"One of the reasons why I don't want to sell-*" starts Jack.

"Spare me the white guilt, dude," says Damon. "You look like your ancestor," he continues, "but the resemblance ends there."

"Wait!" says Shane, still holding his blank check. "Bethea, Damon, Ms. Mary Jane: huddle up!"

Jack and Vlad stare at the group, confused.

* * *

"Listen," says Shane. "We're all aimin' to do the same thing, so-*"

"Hell, no, Shane!" fumes Bethea. "You know damn well that the Grays need to buy Barrineau Plantation."

"Calm down, Bethea," says Damon.

"No, Damon," counters Bethea. "We need this land more than anybody else up in here-we're the only ones with the tools to-*"

"Shush! Don't go scarin' that white boy," hisses Mary Jane. "Let the church buy the damn property."

"Ms. Mary Jane, with all due respect," says Damon, "we can handle this ourselves."

"I been collectin' offerin' for this property since before you chilin' was born-over forty-five years of hard-working black folk cleanin' crackers' houses to save every penny!" spits Mary Jane, heated. "I'll be damned if I'm goin' to let y'all chilin' spend all y'all money when I did all this."

"Okay, Ms. Mary Jane," says Shane. "How much is three, plus six, plus fifteen?"

Mary Jane sighs. "Twenty-four, Shane-boy," she says. "You could've just pulled out your calculator for that."

"The way I figure it," says Shane, "that's the best way to get Mr. Fenton to sell us the property without any questions-especially since that skinny nerd with him clearly wants Mr. Fenton to take the money and run," he adds wryly, nodding towards Vlad.

"You want us to pool our money together on this," says Bethea.

"Yeah," says Shane, "because we all want the damn plantation for the same thing."

"You mean you ain't just trying to annex Barrineau's place onto the farm?" quips Mary Jane.

"Ms. Mary Jane," says Shane, glowering, "please: don't even joke. I don't want that place to ever become a part of my family's farm."

"Take it easy, Shane," says Damon. "We're with you."

"Yeah," adds Bethea. "That's a good idea. It okay with you, Ms. Mary Jane?"

Mary Jane nods. "Good to see a Baxter man usin' his head," she says.

"I'm gonna work my brain hard, ma'am," says Shane. "I'll do whatever it takes to save my farm."

"We'll lift you up in prayer, Shane," says Bethea, smiling. "Now let's get that big jackass cracker to sell us the farm."

* * *

"Twenty-six...?" hisses Vlad. "That's a two, a six, and six zeroes...!"

"I can count, Vlad," says Jack stonily.

"Yeah," says a small, balding man in glasses with large gray eyes, standing outside a red POINDEXTER HARDWARE truck. "A penny for the property, and the rest of it's to pay you to keep all of this quiet."

"Normally, I would haggle," Vlad whispers to Jack, "but that's a hell of a lot of money."

"Makes me wonder why everyone's willing to pay so much for it," says Jack.

"Southern heritage, Jack!" says Vlad. "Money is no object when it comes to heritage."

"You ain't gettin' a better offer," says the small man.

Shane approaches the group, then notes the man. "Mr. Poindexter," he groans. "We're about to make an offer."

"It ain't gonna beat Pa's, Baxter," says a teenager with glasses in the back of the pickup truck.

"Shut up, Sid," snorts Shane.

Mary Jane snatches Poindexter's check, then beckons to Poindexter. "Come here," she demands.

* * *

Poindexter approaches Mary Jane. "Mrs. Foley," he says crisply, "I don't pretend to understand what you and Baxter are doin'."

"You got all that book sense, but no damn common sense," spits Mary Jane. "Listen here: we gonna put all our money together."

Poindexter touches his chin a moment. "We're fixin' to give that damn Yankee that much money?" he balks.

"That way, Fenton won't ask a lot of questions," says Shane.

"That'd be if Fenton were rock-stupid," hisses Poindexter. "Problem is, Fenton's a college man-he's smarter than he looks. If I were sittin' where he sits," he continues, "then I'd wonder why we're throwin' so much cash at him."

"Because it's a wiser investment than puttin' it in the town," says Shane, "at least until we can solve the problem at the plantation."

"They'll just think we're a bunch of crazy-ass preservationists who want to preserve our cultural heritage," snorts Mary Jane.

"This ain't Savannah, Atlanta, or Charleston, South Carolina!" spits Poindexter. "We ain't got any decent history in our town to preserve except for Baxter Farm."

"We done ruled out all of the empirical causes for our town's problems, Mr. Poindexter," adds Bethea.

"There ain't no such thing as ghosts," says Poindexter, "and no such things as curses."

"Then just treat this as just one more 'stupid' thing to rule out before we bring in proper experts," says Damon.

"Fine," says Poindexter. "I'll pool in with you."

Shane grins; the group approaches Jack and Vlad.

* * *

Jack stares at the check from Shane in disbelief, blinking at the face value of the check.

"Why question this bounty?" balks Vlad. "These are honest, clean-dealing people who believe in handshakes as a valid contract. That kind of salt-of-the-earth ethos is right up your alley."

"Vlad," says Jack, "there's more to life than money."

"Granted, but _fifty million_ is a lot of money to walk away from," says Vlad.

"I'd do it with a smile on my face and a song in my heart," says Jack, "knowing my conscience is clear."

Vlad sighs, turning his back to Jack.

Jack studies Vlad.

After a moment, Vlad whips around to face Jack.

"I doubt that you've given up on this," says Jack, resigned.

"Just hear me out, you lummox," says Vlad, annoyed.

Jack shakes his head.

"Jack," Vlad continues, "how much do you think Barrineau Plantation is worth now?"

"Honestly? About a hundred grand," says Jack. "It's solid real estate, but nothing's really special about it except for the lake; it really was built over an ancient Cherokee burial ground. That nets another hundred grand for it. But I can't sell it to these good people."

"Then sell it to _me_! I'll give you 300G's for it," grins Vlad.

"That's most of your Sullivan's Island cash, V-man," says Jack.

"Bah-what are friends for?" says Vlad. "Besides, once the property's mine, I'll sell the property to these people."

"Forget it, Vlad," says Jack. "I'm not going to cheat them."

"See, Jack: that's why you need to sell to me!" says Vlad. "I'll happily 'cheat' them: I don't have your stupid scruples tying me down."

"Damn it-listen to me!" spits Jack, struggling to keep his temper in check. "I won't sell that shit property to you or anybody-and I'll tell them why I won't." Jack walks away from Vlad and heads to the rental van.

Grimacing, Vlad hands the check to Shane.

* * *

Early the next morning, Jack finishes assembling video recording equipment.

"Thanks for the AV stuff, Sid," grins Jack.

Sid sighs. "You're...welcome," he says. "Don't see the point of it, but Baxter twisted my arm."

Shane smirks at Sid.

"Ain't no point to your secrecy," snorts Poindexter. "Half the town knows about your stupid porn habit."

Sid blushes. "Pa!" he whines.

"Look, Sidney: you're a grown man, eighteen years of age," says Poindexter. "Nobody gives a shit what you do now, as long as you don't drag any kids in your bedroom with you."

"I-I wouldn't do that, Pa!" stammers Sid. "What's a little girl gonna do for me?"

"My point is that you can't keep lettin' Baxter blackmail you for stupid shit," says Poindexter.

"If there's any 'blackmail' involved, Mr. Poindexter," scoffs Shane, "it's because nobody else at school could use the AV equipment-on account of the fact that up until now, Sid's had it all locked up in his room so he can watch his jerkoff material."

Vlad grins at Sid. "I like the way he thinks," he whispers to Jack.

"Naturally, V-man: it's the way you think," Jack says to Vlad.

"To be fair, though," continues Poindexter, "making homemade porno videos is a more productive use of public property than filming peach trees." He gives Jack a pointed, skeptical look.

"Mr. Poindexter," says Jack, "I'm a scientist, first and foremost. I'm about to tell you all why I'm not selling Barrineau Plantation," he continues, "and my reason will be impossible for anyone to accept without evidence."

"Evidence...? Of what...?" mutters the group.

"I refuse to sell any of you the insurmountable burden of this haunted property," says Jack flatly. "However, I'll work hard: once I've located the chief ghost causing the problems here, the other ghosts will leave the plantation on their own."

Mary Jane, Bethea, and Damon glance at each other. Shane stares at Jack in disbelief.

"There ain't no such things as ghosts!" shout the members of the Poindexter clan in unison.

"I've gathered a great deal of data which appears to indicate the contrary," says Jack, calm. "However, I acknowledge that there may be undesirable bias on my part, and that I could be wrong. Thus," he continues, "I want to conduct an experiment, related to the peach orchard."

"Why the peach orchard?" asks Vlad. "There's nothing supernatural about it or the trees."

"The peach orchard is the easiest way for me to validate my conclusion," says Jack, handing out copies of a paper.

Vlad studies the paper. _Oh, come on, Jack!_ he fumes silently. _This is just Maddie's sophomore term paper on enchanted plants._

Poindexter thumbs through the paper. "At least it's got real sources I can check when I go to Atlanta," he says. "This Madeline gal's pretty sharp."

"Of the three of us, she's the sharpest," grins Jack.

"Then why ain't she here to back you up?" asks Bethea.

"She's staying at the motel," says Jack.

"How are we handling this experiment, Mr. Fenton?" asks Shane.

"Everyone who's able-bodied is going to help me pick these peaches," says Jack. "Once that's done, then a designated observer will stay up all night to note what happens with the trees."

"I'll do it!" says Shane.

"How you gonna stay up all night?" scoffs Bethea.

"God gave man _Mountain Dew_ for this purpose," grins Shane.

"There ain't nothin' biblical about that shit there, Shane-boy," says Mary Jane.

"Course it ain't," crows Poindexter. "It makes too much sense."

Vlad sighs. "Let's just get this over with," he says, grabbing a bushel basket.

* * *

The next evening, Poindexter scratches his balding dome. "I'm...not sure how to take this," he says.

"Take it how you want, Mr. Poindexter," says Jack. "I can't, in good conscience, sell you Barrineau Plantation."

"All you've proven definitively," says Poindexter, "is that the trees are weird."

"Mr. Poindexter," says Shane. "I ain't doubtin' my own eyes, and you shouldn't doubt yours. We all saw the baskets full-up with peaches, but there's peach blossoms on the trees."

"It's a peach tree, Mr. Baxter!" balks Poindexter.

"That blossoms overnight!?" counters Shane.

"You're still perked up by too much _Mountain Dew_!" spits Poindexter.

"But the videotape backs Shane up," says Damon.

"Bah," says Vlad. "Jack could have doctored the tape while Shane was watching the trees and the rest of us were asleep."

"I was handcuffed to you, and you were handcuffed to the van," says Jack dourly, "because you want me to sell the plantation even more than the townsfolk do. If I even tried to move," Jack continues, "you'd be the first to know about it."

"I'm a scientist too," says Damon, "who's also studying the paranormal. The results of the experiment are clear-cut."

Jack sighs. "I guess we'll be on our way then," he says.

"No," says Damon. "Frankly, most of us don't give a shit if it's haunted or not. We want the property."

"I won't sell it," says Jack.

Shane glowers at the floor.

"When I get rid of the chief ghost," Jack continues, "I'll sell it to you for-*"

"Fifty million dollars-and not a penny less," says Vlad curtly, storming out of the house at Baxter Farm.

"Please forgive him..." says Jack. "And save your cash." He follows Vlad out.

* * *

The next day, back at their dorm room, Vlad hooks up a VCR to his television.

"At least we're finally speaking, Vlad," says Jack.

"You..._mystify_ me, Jack," says Vlad, tense.

"Because I'm not entranced by magic green paper?" snorts Jack. He takes out his wallet and pulls out five twenty dollar bills, then tosses them at Vlad.

"While I'm more than happy to prove the adage that 'a fool and his money are soon parted'," says Vlad, "has it occurred to you that I wasn't simply being a greedy asshole when I was strongly hinting that you should have taken the money? _Fifty million dollars_, by the way?"

Jack is silent.

"Those people knew, believed, or at least acknowledged the rumors that Barrineau Plantation was haunted the whole time, you know," continues Vlad. "Otherwise, the resident town atheist would not have pooled in twenty-six million to give to a pair of 'damn Yankees'."

Jack nods. "I know," he says. "I also know when you're scared shitless-and that it's connected to me." He turns on the television, then puts a tape in the VCR.

Vlad raises the volume on the television. Both he and Jack watch the video.

Seven minutes in, Jack pauses the video. "I guess the asshole's trying to be a sport," he says wryly, noting that Jackie's video image stares directly at the camera as Maddie in-video walks away.

Vlad sighs. "If he had tried to impersonate you," he says, "your wedding would have been off. But this raises a bigger problem."

"I'm going to fight him," says Jack, determined.

"You are not _equipped_ to fight that!" spits Vlad. "No one is!"

Jack stares at Vlad.

"Look, you stupid bastard," continues Vlad. "I'm supposed to be your friend, right?"

Jack nods.

"That means I'm supposed to keep you from getting yourself killed stupidly!" says Vlad, heated. "Neither you, or I-especially not with our shitty ghost gear-is capable of containing a ghost that can leave its main haunt," he continues, "which your ancestor is clearly capable of doing."

Jack rubs his temples.

Vlad resumes the video. "Just look at him-licking his chops at Maddie like a starving carnivore who stumbled in the middle of an open meat market!" he seethes. "And you say there's more video of Jackie?"

"Yeah," says Jack. "And it's even worse than you think. You probably think of him as my evil twin."

Vlad pulls out a pair of Jack's boxer shorts from his own dresser drawer. "He could fit these!" Vlad fumes.

"Both of our mothers died giving birth to us," says Jack tonelessly. "Both of us were moody, lonely teenagers who stuck out from the crowd like a sore thumb. And both of us had a stringy relative who died when we were young."

"Your dad shot himself, Jack," says Vlad gravely. "That maniac," he continues, "literally crucified his older brother-and murdered his father and sister."

"I verbally crucified my dad, who was emotionally-labile and sheltered," says Jack curtly, guilt in his eyes.

"You mook," counters Vlad. "You aren't responsible for your parents' deaths. You're the most decent man I know," he continues, "and you are _nothing_ like that piece of foul shit hardening in your family tree."

"Except that he's my ancestor," says Jack dourly, "and without him, I don't exist."

"You're talking to the guy who's a bastard descendant of fucking Dracula-the real one whose deeds were far more heinous than anything in Bram Stoker's doorstopper," counters Vlad, rolling his eyes at his Hammer Dracula movie poster.

"But at least Vlad Tepes was more or less one of the good guys in history," snorts Jack. "He simply cribbed his cruelty from his captors during the Crusades. What was Jack Barrineau's excuse for being an evil bastard even by the low standards of slaveholders at the time?" he asks soberly.

Vlad studies Jack.

"That's something I've got to find out," Jack continues, "and to do that, I've got to beat him."

"You...are on your own," says Vlad after a moment. "I would not be any help you," he continues, "and my final bit of advice to you is for you to leave this shit to the locals!"

Jack sighs. "I have to protect Maddie," he says, grim.

Vlad shakes his head.

"Maddie is going to marry me soon," Jack continues, "which means she's already part of my family: I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family."

Vlad winces.

"You're part of my family, too, V-man," Jack says, placing a hand on Vlad's shoulder. "You're like a brother to me."

"Are you okay with the fact that I want to sit out this particular ghost hunt?" asks Vlad.

"Don't worry; I'll handle Jackie alone: Fenton to Barrineau," says Jack. "Maybe I can reason with him, but if not...then I'll find a way to stop him."

* * *

NEXT: In A. D. 200x, ghost war was beginning...!


	3. Some inner demons

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

1\. Some inner demons...

Danny approaches Jack, the latter in a white T-shirt and large orange knee-length shorts. "Where are you headed, Dad?" he asks. "We just got back from our family vacation-which was pretty eventful," he adds with a smile.

Jack grins. "To hell, son," he says simply.

Danny picks up the map. "Funny," he quips as he studies the map, "you don't have anyplace in Michigan marked on here." He hands Jack the map.

"Keep that sense of humor while holding the fort," says Jack, rolling his eyes as he accepts the map. "You're the man of the house while I'm out." Jack picks up several pieces of ghost equipment along with four duffelbags as he heads to the FFAV.

"So you're going on a ghost-hunting trip," says Danny.

Jack nods.

"When are you and Mom coming back from Georgia?" Danny asks as he hands Jack back the map.

"I'm going alone, Danny," says Jack, loading the duffelbags and equipment inside the FFAV.

Danny blinks a moment, then stares at Jack in disbelief. "Why?" he asks.

"I'm sharpening my skills," grins Jack.

"That might be true," says Danny slowly, "but that's not a reason to leave Mom or us out."

"What do you mean, Danny?" asks Jack, his smile slipping.

"You have dragged us to every corner of the country where there just might be a sign of a ghost haunting," says Danny.

"Yes," says Jack, "I know. I'm beginning to think that's a bit reckless on my part," he adds, scowling.

"Dad...you're hiding something," says Danny.

Jack turns his head away from Danny.

"You're up against something dangerous," Danny continues, "and you're planning to fight it alone!?"

Jack walks away from Danny, headed to the driver's side of the FFAV.

Danny jumps into the passenger side.

"What the hell are you doing?" spits Jack, seated in the driver's side.

"I'm coming with you," says Danny, stubborn as he buckles his seat belt.

"No, you're not," Jack counters tersely. "I need you at home with the rest of the family. Now get out," he orders.

"But Dad-*" begins Danny.

"That's right," says Jack, jerking his thumb at his own chest. "'Dad'. So, 'son'," he asks, tense as he leans into Danny's face, "how many times must I tell you 'no'!?"

Danny seethes.

"Please, Daniel," says Jack, "exit the Fenton Family Assault Vehicle."

Surly, Danny complies with Jack's order. "Irony," he spits as he slams the door, "thy name is Jackson Daniel Fenton!"

"I ain't the only one, 'the Second'!" counters Jack. He drives off.

"Dad's scared," muses Danny as he ducks into an alley. "I won't let him get in over his head. Jack Fenton may not want my help," Danny continues as he changes into the Phantom, "but he's getting it-one way or another."

Danny turns invisible, then pursues the FFAV.

* * *

"I've given you everything I know," groans Tucker, cranky. "I never get up this early on a Saturday, Valerie-especially during summer vacation."

"'Early to bed, early to rise', bitch," quips Valerie. "Now quit whining and let's go to the library for more research."

"Where do you think I got all of this!?" sputters Tucker. "And why are you interested in this all of a sudden anyway?"

"Can't I change my mind?" snorts Valerie.

"You hate anything to do with Black History Month," says Tucker noncommittally. "Given our history together as schoolmates," he continues, "you obviously have a hidden agenda."

"Get over yourself. I still ain't interested in Black History Month," says Valerie. "I am interested in _my_ history," she adds, "but as to why: it's none of your damned business. Just accept my help and let's move!"

"It's my history, too, you know," scowls Tucker. "You'd think that learning we share a common ancestor would get you to be nicer to me."

"And you'd think that same information would get you to trust me," scoffs Valerie.

Tucker chuckles. "You're on a ghost hunt, aren't you?" he asks, smirking.

"I honestly...don't care what you think," glowers Valerie.

"I just want the truth," says Tucker. "That helps to build trust."

"Would you believe me if I told you?" asks Valerie, shaking her head in her own disbelief.

_"Get off me...!" Valerie shrieked, awakening as she shook with fear._

_A girl watched Valerie as she sat up, wiping Valerie's forehead with a handkerchief. "You got some fight in you, girl," she said, a grave smile on her face. "You gonna need it."_

_Valerie relaxed slightly, only to note that the strangely-familiar looking girl...was translucent. Narrowing her eyes, she quickly snatched up and equipped a wrist-mounted ghost laser._

_The girl, trembling, raised her hands in surrender. "I ain't mean no harm to you, Valerie," she said. "Please, take it easy..."_

_"Who are you, ghost?" spat Valerie._

_"My name is Bessie," said the ghost girl softly. "I'd rather you point that thing at the ghost that do mean to hurt you."_

_"What do you mean?" asked Valerie._

_"The sorry bastard who tried to tup you in your dream, girl," said Bessie soberly._

_Valerie shook with rage. "Is it that ghost kid!?" she hissed._

_Bessie shook her head. "They is kin to each other," she said, touching her chin thoughtfully, "but they ain't workin' together. That ghost boy you talkin' about don't even know about him."_

_"You...you saved me," said Valerie in realization. "Your voice yelled at me to fight, letting me know I was dreaming."_

_"I just helped you save your own self," said Bessie._

_"I'm not sure why a ghost would help me fight off another ghost," said Valerie, wary, "but...thank you."_

_"Don't thank me, girl," said Bessie. "I need your help to kill the son-of-a-bitch. If you want to know all the whys about it," she continued, "then help that boy of the Foleys with his church Black History project."_

_Valerie stared at Bessie._

_"I gonna see you again, girl," said Bessie as she phased out of Valerie's bedroom._

* * *

Tucker answers a knock at the door, looking through the keyhole. "Looks like your dad and some woman," he says as he opens the door.

Damon enters Tucker's house with a heavy-set woman.

Valerie beams at the woman. "Cousin Bethea!" she squeals, hugging the woman.

Bethea returns the hug. "Valerie! Girl, you lookin' good!" she says. "You almost grown!"

Valerie smiles.

Bethea looks over Tucker. "And Tucker!" she says, staring at the confused teenager. "Don't you look at me like I'm no stranger."

"I...sometimes have a hard time placing faces," says Tucker, nervous.

Damon sighs. "The Grays and the Foleys go way back," he says. "From Oglethorpe Springs, Georgia to Amity Park."

"I know that," says Tucker, "but I need some help."

Bethea grins. "Your cousin sent you this as a reminder," she says, handing Tucker a storage container and a plastic fork.

Tucker opens the container, then grins. "Miss Bethea!" he shrieks, now recognizing Bethea. "You brought this from Virgil's grandmama, didn't you?" he asks.

"You know I did. You also know I had to set a bit aside for myself, now," says Bethea. "That woman cook greens so well she can teach crackers how to cook 'em right."

"'White people'," corrects Damon automatically.

"Sorry, Damon," says Bethea, rolling her eyes.

"I hope you don't lump in Mr. Shane," says Valerie. "He puts his foot in it."

"Damn straight!" says Bethea. "Virgil's grandmama taught him, so Shane better know how to serve up some greens."

Tucker, wiping away drool from the corner of his lips, puts the container of collard greens and rice into the microwave.

A minute later, the scent of the food draws out Tucker's parents, Alvin and Eleanor Foley.

"Yeah, Dad," grins Tucker, guarding the microwave, "it's just what it smells like: Cousin Mary Jane's greens and rice-and this is all mine," he continues as the microwave bell rings.

Alvin looks over to Bethea, standing with Damon and Valerie.

Bethea shakes her head. "Of course I brought more greens, Alvin," she says. "You and your boy are twins, I swear!" She escorts Alvin outside.

"Normally, I don't even eat greens," says Damon, grinning at Eleanor, "but Mrs. Mary Jane's cooking makes me not give a fuck about stereotypes."

"Haters gonna hate, Mr. Gray," says Tucker as he greedily digs into his container of greens and rice. "The only way to eat vegetables!"

"With all of the pig parts in those greens," giggles Eleanor, "I don't think Sam will want any."

"Manson needs some meat in her diet," quips Valerie.

"She's Jewish," says Tucker through a mouthful of food.

"Don't eat with your mouth full, Tucker," Eleanor admonishes.

Tucker finishes slurping off the meat and skin of a cooked pig tail. "Sorry, Mom," he says, waving the tail bones. "Between Sam being Jewish and vegetarian, looking at this would kill her."

Bethea and Alvin reenter with plastic containers filled with collard greens.

"Honey," says Alvin, "please put on a pot of rice."

"No problem," says Eleanor, grinning at Tucker, "because Tucker won't share at all."

"We all may as well just sit down and eat," laughs Bethea, "'cause nothin' gonna get done in here until these greens are gone."

The other adults in the house nod and enter the dining room. Tucker and Valerie gather up Tucker's research paperwork and set it neatly on the coffee table, then they join the adults in the dining room.

* * *

"You think you can follow all of these water and compost rules, Manson?" asks Dash. "Because otherwise, you're going to have to hang with Paulina for the rest of the summer. Shane doesn't fuck around when it comes to his farm."

"Of course not," says Sam. "It's his livelihood. Though I will admit that his rules are hardcore," she continues. "I feel like a polluting slacker."

"Don't feel bad. He'll have plenty of veggies for you," grins Dash. "I warned Shane about you over the phone."

"What does he think?" asks Sam.

"That you're a wealthy teenager who can afford to be picky about where food comes from," says Dash, "so you'd probably be pleasantly surprised about his farm." Hearing a knock at the door, Dash answers it; he opens it to reveal Shane, a man resembling Dash, but with light brown hair.

"I still don't know why your parents won't trust the two of us alone," scoffs Sam. "Do they think that our hormones rule us?"

"They think I'll just rut anything that has a pulse," snorts Dash.

"You're teenagers," says Shane, "so your hormones will rule you when boredom sets in. Now get in the truck," he grins.

Sam rolls her eyes; she exits Dash's house with Dash.

"No trust at all," says Dash, locking the door.

"Your cock don't give a fuck about nothin' but fuckin', boy," counters Shane. "Least of all what clique her pussy runs with," he hisses in Dash's ear.

Dash blushes, his cheeks a bright red. He climbs into the back of Shane's "truck", actually an SUV.

Sam starts to enter the back, but Shane grabs Sam's arm.

"No, miss," says Shane. "Didn't you just hear what I said?"

Sam stares at Shane. "I'm hardly planning to seduce your cousin," she snorts.

"Take shotgun, girl," says Shane. "I'm only thirty-nine, and I remember high school all too well."

"You remember what _you_ were like in high school," mutters Dash.

"Damn right, boy," says Shane, hopping into the driver's seat. "I would have been all over Li'l Wednesday Addams here back in my day."

Sam shakes her head as she tosses her bag into the back, then sits in front on the passenger side.

"Don't you young'uns ever act like Ol' MacDonald here don't know shit," continues Shane, grinning as he drives off.

"E-yi-e-yi-oh," say Dash and Sam sardonically.

* * *

"You inconsiderate little shit!" seethes Jack, pinning Danny-as the Phantom-to the side of the FFAV.

The Phantom takes a deep breath, struggling to stay calm. "Mr. Fenton," he begins, "it seemed unusual to me that you would go on a full-scale ghost extermination run without your family, so-*"

"You have a pulse," says Jack, tense.

The Phantom blinks.

"That means that you're alive," Jack continues. "That you might have a family that cares about whether you live or die. Why the hell are you following me?"

"Because...I'm a superhero, and I help people in need," says the Phantom, looking into Jack's eyes.

"At your age?" snorts Jack, a wry grin on his face. "You can't be older than fifteen. I can only imagine the crap I'd have been up to at your age with your powers."

"What?" counters the Phantom. "The many times I've saved Amity Park from ghosts isn't enough for you to sway your skepticism?"

"No," says Jack. "You called yourself a superhero, which tells me that you're a kid who's read his share of comic books."

"You've got," says the Phantom, "every anti-ghost armament ever devised by Fenton Works crammed in your vehicle. Whatever you're fighting, you can't possibly fight alone," he continues, "and since your family isn't with you, I intend to join you in their stead."

Jack smiles, then whips out a Fenton Thermos and seals the Phantom inside. "If you can figure out how to get out of this," he sneers, shaking the Thermos, "then I guess I can't stop you. However, you're not welcome on this expedition." Jack sets the Thermos on the curb, then reenters the FFAV and drives off.

Inside the Thermos, Danny sulks. "When he's worried, Dad is such an asshole!" he spits.

* * *

A half hour passes. Vlad, on a private errand in the outskirts of Amity Park, notes the Thermos and picks it up.

"Now, why would a Fenton Thermos be left unattended here...?" he muses aloud.

Danny seethes. "Just free me, cheesehead!" he shrieks from inside the Thermos.

Vlad smirks. "How rude of you, Daniel," he says as he complies.

Free of the Thermos, Danny starts to fly off.

"Not even a 'thank you'!?" balks Vlad.

"I don't have time for you," says Danny tersely, reverting to normal. "Unless you have anything to do with the danger my dad's getting himself into," he continues, his eyes briefly glowing green as he glares at Vlad, "then I have plenty of time."

"I honestly have no clue what Jack is up to," says Vlad. "Where did he go?"

"Oglethorpe Springs, Georgia," says Danny.

Vlad's eyes widen. "That is no place for you," he says, "not at your level of power."

"Excuse me," counters Danny. "You don't know what I'm capable of-not anymore. I've defeated Pariah Dark-*"

"I held your hand on that one, boy," says Vlad.

"-and," Danny continues, ignoring Vlad's response, "my own dark side...no. I defeated an unholy fusion of my ghost half and your ghost half: on my own."

Vlad stares at Danny, confused.

Danny smiles. "Oh, that's right," he sighs. "You wouldn't know about that, because he never happened. If we weren't mortal enemies, though," Danny continues, "I'd tell you all about it."

"You don't have to let our enmity preclude civil conversation," says Vlad. "I tried to clone you so that I could have you as a son, remember?" he adds tersely.

"I'm trying to save my _real_ dad's life, okay?" says Danny, sullen.

"Then," says Vlad, "since you're hell-bent on following Jack to Oglethorpe Springs, don't go in blind. This is not a battle where you can afford to be ignorant of your enemy."

"So you _do_ know something about this," says Danny.

"I know enough," says Vlad, grim, "that I want no further part of it. If you hurry," he adds, "you can catch up to Damon Gray and his highly-motivated daughter, Valerie. I believe you know her quite well." Vlad smirks.

"Of course I know Valerie..." says Danny, trailing off as he notes Vlad's smirk. "And of course, that you're a perverted, spying asshole."

"They're going your way, at any rate," says Vlad. "Don't waste any more time glowering at me, little badger. Go."

Danny scowls at Vlad, tensing his fists, then he takes off into the sky, returning to Amity Park.

Vlad sighs. "To master your gift, Daniel, my boy," he says aloud, "you'll have to grow up a bit more." Vlad walks to his car, steps in, and drives off: headed home to Wisconsin.

* * *

"Do you ever shut up!?" snarls Jack. He glares at a ghost.

The ghost buffs his fingernails on his salmon-colored suit. "It ain't wrong to note the similarity in our temperaments, Little Jack," he smiles. "You came 'round here to drive me off my property," the ghost continues, "forgettin' that you've got some inner demons of your own."

"You're this whole town's inner demon, Jackson!" spits Jack. "Every damned civic group here has thrown truckloads of money at me to buy your shitty, burned-out plantation," he continues, "so they can have an ol' fashioned prayer meeting to exorcise you from the land."

"And how well is you doin' with your science, Jackson?" sneers the ghost.

"Oh, now you're just trying to sound like a cheesy hick," snorts Jack.

"Listen, son," says the ghost. "This is my land, and everyone here," he continues, grinning, "is a part of my family. A man ought to do everything in his power to keep his family together."

Jack snatches up an ecto-launcher. "You don't know shit about family, Jackie!" he spits, firing the launcher at Jackie. "You killed all the family you had when you were nineteen!"

"They were thinking of letting some niggers walk free," says Jackie, calmly dodging Jack's launcher fire. "That was crazy."

"You murdered your wife when you burned down your own plantation," seethes Jack, "to say nothing of the other people-entire families-you've tortured and slaughtered through the years!"

"They were my niggers to kill, Little Jack. You aim to tell me what I can and can't do with my property?" asks Jackie.

"Barrineau Plantation ain't your property anymore, Jackie," says Jack. "Thanks to you killing yourself, it's mine; and I'm here to evict you, you son of a bitch." Jack fires the launcher, hitting Jackie's arm.

Jackie flinches, rubbing his arm. "Now see, boy," he says stonily, dusting soot off his suit, "I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson in basic courtesy." He overshadows Jack before Jack can activate his Specter Deflector.

* * *

NEXT: A gathering of souls.


	4. This really is a homecoming

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

2\. This really is a homecoming.

Danny holds Valerie, trembling in her battle suit. Bethea and Damon check various ghost-hunting equipment and talismans.

Tucker hands Valerie a Specter Deflector, then displays his. "That's how I'm able to sleep at all," he says. "Knowing what that dude was capable of in life, I don't even want to think of what he'd do as a ghost."

"These aren't ordinary nightmares, huh?" Danny asks as he releases Valerie.

"Apparently," spits Valerie, donning the Deflector, "Jackson Daniel Barrineau discovered _**Nightmare on Elm Street**_ during the Eighties."

"That would require him to have a TV," scoffs Danny.

"I actually have to thank that ghost kid," says Valerie, scowling. "I almost didn't wake up from that one."

"Why is Barrineau after you?" wonders Danny.

"Because our mutual ancestor, Danny," says Valerie, "knows that I'm coming to Oglethorpe Springs to send his ass back to hell-so he's trying to head off his incoming ass-whupping."

Danny turns on Valerie's Deflector, then inches away. "Keep that turned on at all times," he says.

"Why don't you have one on?" wonders Valerie.

Danny blanches. "My...all-powerful ghost-hunting Fenton genes will protect me!" he says.

A semi-visible Bessie and Tucker give each other quizzical glances.

"Maybe it's because Jackie won't target his only begotten," says Bethea carefully, studying Danny as she sits in the back seat. "You move up front with Damon," she orders Danny.

Danny nods, climbing over to the front passenger seat as Damon takes the wheel. Bessie phases to the top of the SUV.

* * *

Outside a _Wal-Mart_ in Tennesee, near Georgia's border, Shane loads up coolers along with Dash and Sam.

"I'm going to have to sit in his lap, you know," says Sam wryly, nodding to Dash.

"I'd cop a feel, Manson," quips Dash, "but there would have to be something to feel up."

"Keep your hands to yourself, Dash," says Shane.

Dash rolls his eyes as he sits in the passenger seat; Sam carefully seats herself on Dash's thigh.

"Why are we risking the possiblity of being pulled over again?" Sam asks Dash.

"Shane heard that there's a hurricane coming over the area," says Dash. "He wants to catch the rainwater."

"Ah. Crystal-clear Baxter logic," says Sam.

Dash pouts.

Shane enters the driver's side of the SUV and sits behind the wheel. "Hands up where I can see 'em, Dash!" he bellows.

Dash complies. "I didn't touch her! Get a grip!" he spits.

Shane tugs on Sam's bra strap. "Yeah," he says wryly, "that's why her bra's loose."

"How would he even know the difference...?" hisses Dash, blushing.

"You ain't the only Baxter who was a high school quarterback," scoffs Shane.

"I'm _still_ a high school quarterback, old man!" spits Dash.

"You're still in high school," say Shane and Sam in unison.

Sam pouts as she slips off her bra and quickly redons it.

"How do girls _do_ that without showing anything?" balks Dash.

"A secret feminine tactic for girls with male friends," says Sam with a grin.

Shane shakes his head as he drives the SUV towards the Georgia border.

"I'm serious," continues Dash. "Even Paulina can do that shit, and you _know_ she's packing some serious casava melons. Not even any side boob."

"Let it go, Dash," snorts Shane. "And get your hand away from her thigh if you plan on throwing a football again."

"Yeah, Shane," says Dash sardonically, waving his hands to prove his intent, "I was plotting to rape Madame Goth here while you're driving right next to me."

"I only know that you're a teenage boy," says Shane, "and I'm pretending that Sam is my teenage girl."

"My dad would approve of your paranoia," says Sam, "but he's in Israel with my mom and grandma."

"Yep," says Shane, "and I aim to return you to your family the same way they left you. That's what I'd want any parent to do for my little girls."

Dash snorts.

"And you'd better quit breathing on that girl's earlobe, boy," Shane continues with an accusing look at Dash.

"I can't breathe!?" wonders Dash.

Sam chuckles.

* * *

Jack stands at a precipice, staring down at a ravine. "Once there was a creek down there," he grins crudely, "but it done dried up over the years."

"Don't go tryin' to fight me, Jack-boy," Jack continues, gently stroking his own cheek. "It ain't the fall what kills you-it's the landing. It'll be over so quick you won't even feel it."

Jack trembles a moment, then jumps...

...except the Phantom catches Jack and flies him to safety.

Jack glares at the Phantom. "You again!" he spits. "Why don't you listen to your father, boy," he says, "and git!?"

"I don't know why you've decided to overshadow Mr. Fenton," says the Phantom coldly as he sets Jack down, "but you will leave him now."

"Oh, we're playin' that game, Danny-boy?" laughs Jack.

"No, sir," says Tucker wryly, hitting Jack over the head with the Ghost Catcher, "we're playing _**The Exorcist**_."

The Ghost Catcher separates Jackie from Jack; Jack staggers away from Jackie, snatches the Ghost Catcher from Tucker, then heads to the FFAV.

Jackie leers down at Tucker. "Welcome home, Foley," he grins. "How you been, boy?" He pulls out a whip.

Tucker steps back as Jackie cracks the whip.

"See, boy," continues Jackie, "you know that tacky little belt ain't gonna save your hide from me."

"That's okay," says Valerie, "because nothing's going to save you from _me_!" She starts to attack, but Jack holds her shoulder.

"With all due respect, Valerie," says Jack, charging his Fenton Gauntlets, "the bastard is mine!" He punches Jackie, knocking the ghost back into Barrineau Plantation. Jack follows Jackie inside, shutting and locking the gate.

Damon curses.

"Yeah," says Bethea, "he's so stubborn." 

"My teams from _Axion_ couldn't take him out either," says Damon. "Jackie has too strong a hold over the plantation."

"What's _your_ angle in this, ghost?" asks Valerie.

"You're welcome as always, Miss Gray," says the Phantom. He flies off.

"How did _he_ get here!?" Valerie spits.

"He probably flew," says Tucker.

Valerie folds her arms as she removes her suit, reverting to normal, then glares at Tucker. "Don't be a smartass," she spits.

Bessie shakes her head.

"This really is a homecoming," says Bethea as she smiles at Bessie. "God only knows that we need to drive Jackie out."

"To be free," whispers Bessie.

* * *

NEXT: Be filled with an unholy ghost.


	5. I'd rather blame God

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

3\. I'd rather blame God.

Dash drags the last cooler, filled with rainwater, to the steps of the porch. He and Sam, both drenched to the bone, sit on the steps.

Shane hollers with glee. "Now I can do some waterin'!" he crows.

"If I die of pnuemonia, Shane," sputters Dash, taking off his shirt, "I'm going to haunt this farm for all eternity."

"That'd be real nice of you, Dash," says Shane. "Now wring out your shirt in the cooler. I don't want to waste a drop."

"You're insane. You do realize this, right?" scowls Sam.

"You two did fine," says Shane, obstinate.

"You had us on top of a moving SUV in the middle of a raging thunderstorm!" shrieks Sam.

"A storm which shut off like a light the second we drove into town," says Shane. "So if I'm a bit nuts," he adds, noting the cumulonimbus clouds coasting overhead, "it's because of the damned weather."

"Hot, humid, and sticky," says Dash, stripping to his briefs, "but it never rains." He wrings water out of his soaked clothes into the cooler.

"Red _Fruit of the Loom_ briefs, Dash?" snorts Sam, wringing water out of her hair into another cooler.

"You know I'm hot, Manson," quips Dash.

"The humidity's getting to your brain that quick, Dash?" asks Shane.

Dash scowls at Shane.

"Get inside, but take off your shorts before you go," says Shane.

Dash rolls his eyes as he complies, tossing his briefs to Shane.

Sam shuts her eyes. "Are you going to wring out your cousin's _Underoos_, too?" she asks.

"Won't hurt," says Shane, catching Dash's briefs.

"And I guess I'll be naked too," continues Sam.

Shane nods, turning his back to Sam.

"Dash will never have room to call the Fenton family weird ever again," Sam mutters as she slips off her clothes, then wrings the water out into her cooler.

* * *

"Damn," smirks Jackie. "I haven't tired you out yet?"

"Shut the fuck up," spits Jack, exhausted as he downs a shot of bourbon.

"You been a Yankee too long," Jackie snorts. "Don't even know how to drink a good bourbon properly."

"Dad!" cries Danny from outside Barrineau Plantation. "If you need help, Tucker and I are right here!"

"Right there," roars Jack, "is where you're going to stay! And you're grounded when we get home!"

"Fair enough!" Danny shoots back. "My job as your son is to make sure we all _get_ home, you big dumbass!"

"I'd say Danny's a stubborn bastard," mutters Jack, smiling, "but he's my kid."

"Sure as hell came by it proper, didn't he?" says Jackie.

"Yeah," says Jack, "because he, first and foremost, is a Fenton." He picks up an anti-ghost rifle. "And I won't let you and your sins sully our good name."

"Whoo! Here we go again," says Jackie as he dodges Jack's laser fire.

* * *

"We're going to have to pull your dad out of there before Jackie breaks him, Danny," says Tucker as Danny phases them both inside a room in Mary Jane Foley's house.

A tall, lanky teen wearing a green basketball jersey, T-shirt, and khaki cargo shorts, enters the room; the teenager stares wide-eyed at Tucker and Danny, the pair not noticing the teenager.

"If I come as myself, Dad won't budge," says Danny, as the Phantom. "If I come as the Phantom," he continues, reverting to normal, "then he's just as likely to slug me with the Gauntlets as Jackie Barrineau. Dad isn't thinking clearly."

"If we can weaken Jackie's hold over Barrineau Plantation-*" begins Tucker, only to be interrupted...

...by the teenager. "T-the fuck, Tucker!? What the fuck!?" he sputters.

Tucker and Danny both note the teenager.

"Shit! He saw me change...?" spits Danny.

"Virgil, chill out," hisses Tucker to the teenager. "We're cool, man."

"No, no! You don't get it!" shrieks Virgil. "I'm callin' Grandmama. Grandma-*"

Tucker and Danny clamp their hands over Virgil's mouth.

"Shut up!" scowls Tucker. "Shut up and calm down!"

"How the fuck am I gonna calm down!?" says Virgil, his voice muffled beneath Tucker and Danny's hands.

"Because if you don't, I'll overshadow you," says Danny quietly, glaring as his eyes glow green. "I'm not fucking around."

"Look, dude," spits Virgil as he tries to regain his calm. "How you fixin' to stop Jackie when you've got the dude's powers? Bad enough that you kin to him!"

"I...have _his_ powers?" wonders Danny.

Virgil sighs. "I guess I'll have to explain," he says. "Y'all meet me at the lake by Barrineau Plantation tomorrow night. Now get the fuck out my room. I need some sleep."

"Don't mention any of this," says Danny. "Please."

"I ain't sayin' shit. Just be there tomorrow," says Virgil, scowling.

* * *

"Now do you feel me, dude?" asks Virgil. "Ol' Jackie was baptized and ostensibly filled with the Holy Ghost in this lake when he was fourteen."

"The lake that some earlier Barrineau created over an abandoned Cherokee burial ground," says Danny, down on his haunches as he touches the lake with his finger, "which means that souls are trying to rest here." Danny gazes at the eerie glow, brightest at the tip of his finger where his aura and the lake touch.

"But Danny didn't get his powers from Jackie Barrineau," says Tucker. "I don't think it's possible to inherit being a halfa."

"It skipped too many generations to be passable from parent to child," adds Danny. "Besides," he continues, "of the three halfas I know about, only one of them was intentional. The other two, including me, were total accidents."

"It's just too coincidental, though," says Virgil. "Ol' Jackie had ghost powers when he was livin', and so do you. Jackie Barrineau and your daddy could've been twins. You feelin' me yet?"

"It's true that from where you sit," says Danny, "I'm a blood descendant of that bastard out there tormenting my dad. But so are Tucker and Valerie-to say nothing of my dad, yet they don't have any ghost powers to speak of."

"How have you used your powers?" asks Virgil.

Tucker glares at Virgil.

"No, Tuck," says Danny, rising to his feet, "it's a fair question. Though I will cop to slipping into places where girls are in various states of undress, and maybe pranking an asshole at my school when he's pushed me too far," he says to Virgil, "for the most part, I've used my powers to protect people from ghosts of all kinds-especially from ghosts like Jackie Barrineau."

"So you're some kind of superhero," says Virgil.

"I guess," says Danny. "Right now, though," he continues, "I just want to help my dad. He's going to crack."

"Dude," says Virgil tersely, "this ain't just about your daddy. Other people have already started to crack."

Danny studies Virgil.

"There ain't been no fuckin' rain in this part of the Deep South since Ol' Jackie burnt his plantation down towards the end of the Civil War," says Virgil.

"Why is that important?" asks Danny.

"People are losing hope," says Virgil. "Pretty soon, everybody will leave here, and this place will become a ghost town."

"Like other ghost towns throughout the United States," says Danny. "Towns...shut down."

"Come on, man!" spits Virgil. "Oglethorpe Springs will become a literal ghost town if your daddy fucks up," he seethes, "and Jackie Barrineau will win, whippin' on the souls of my ancestral kin for all eternity-just as he did during life, with powers like yours."

"My powers aren't evil," says Danny, sullen.

"Neither are hammers, or knives, or guns," says Virgil, "but in the hands of an evil man, any tool can bring hell on earth."

Danny touches his chin.

"Can you imagine a plantation owner with your powers?" asks Virgil, trembling. "Spying on people without being seen, appearing and disappearing wherever he wants; being able to fly, or phase his hand in some dude's chest and pull out his heart like fuckin' Sub-Zero in _**Mortal Kombat**_!?"

"That's...pretty gruesome," says Danny, at a loss for words.

"That was the living nightmare for every slave at Barrineau Plantation," says Virgil. "I want you to think about that." He leaves Danny and Tucker at the lake.

* * *

Jack, sitting against the FFAV, glares down at an empty glass of bourbon.

Bethea and Damon walk up.

"Are you ready for our help yet, Mr. Fenton?" asks Bethea.

"Please call me Jack," says Jack, "and no, thank you. I'm ninety-eight point nine percent certain that you've had numerous prayer circles and old-fashioned church revivals, with all of the resulting spiritual energy directed towards futile attempts to drive Barrineau out. He won't budge. I've thrown just about every anti-ghost weapon in my arsenal at Jackie...with the same shit results."

"That's because we need to pull together," says Bethea, "combine our powers to defeat him. Ol' Jackie's roots are set deep, but-*"

"But what? The same results?" spits Jack, surly. "This isn't an episode of _**Captain Planet**_-the power is not ours! Why should I allow you to endanger yourselves on my behalf?" he asks.

"We're not doing this on your behalf, Jack," says Damon. "I'm doing this for my daughter, who deserves a good night's sleep without having to wear a Specter Deflector."

"You threw _Axion_ at that bastard, Damon," counters Jack, "and you got fired for it."

"Only to be rehired because DALV bought _Axion_ out," grins Damon, "and the new CEO has authorized me to throw _Axion_ at Jackie again."

"And what are the results?" asks Jack.

"The same, except with dead _Axion_ operatives," says Damon, losing his smile.

Jack grins ruefully. "Jackie had their corpses playing 'Ring Around the Rosie'," he says. "He's like a sick-in-the-head kid zapping ants with a magnifying glass."

Damon and Bethea study Jack.

"I've fought all manner of ghosts over the years, usually with Maddie, sometimes with the kids-mostly for moral support," continues Jack. "So you're likely wondering why Maddie and Jazz aren't here, and why Danny will be grounded until he's forty when we get home."

Damon chuckles. "I know that feeling," he says.

"I'm fighting alone," Jack says, "because I'm trying to fathom how to fight something so damned evil that it affects the climate of an entire town. I will not expose my family to a ghost as warped and twisted as Jackie Barrineau."

"But just by sharing blood ties with him," says Bethea, "your family is already exposed."

"I know," says Jack. "Danny's at a vulnerable stage of his life," he continues. "He's confused and unsure of himself, and he's seeking guidance."

Damon nods, understanding in his eyes.

"Right now, the only male role models he has are: my best friend Vlad, who harbors an unyielding lust for my wife which has persisted since college," continues Jack, "and myself: a guy who doesn't know a damned thing about being a male role model because when I was Danny's age, my sole role model at that time blew his fucking brains out due to being even more confused than I was."

"Jack..." Bethea gasps.

"I've been this big, goofy disappointment to Danny for as long as he's known me," says Jack. "I...I accidentally ran over a stray puppy Danny was secretly trying to make his pet with the FFAV when he was seven-but if it hadn't been for that puppy, I would have killed Danny. I...don't even know why Danny would bother trying to save me."

"Because you're Danny's father," says Damon, "and he knows that you love him."

"And he loves you too," adds Bethea.

"I'm...not the father he wants," sighs Jack.

"But you think Jackie is?" asks Damon.

"What I think," says Jack, "is that Jackie would not frighten Danny. He looks like me, and sounds like me if I had a Southern twang to my voice. That's why I stopped bringing Danny here when he was little..." Jack shuts his eyes, tense as he recalls the memory.

_"What are you wearing, Dad!?" giggled Danny. "You're dressed even funnier than usual."_

_"You think I look funny, boy?" asked the man, looking down kindly on Danny._

_"You look like Colonel Sanders in a pink-orange suit!" chortled Danny._

_"This suit color is salmon, young 'un," countered the man, preening in his suit._

_Danny bit into a peach with relish. "You're dressed funny, you're talking funny...Dad, you're just funny," he said, peach juice trickling down his chin._

_"You think I'm your daddy, boy?" asked the man, amused._

_"Of course you are!" laughed Danny. He took another bite of his peach._

_"Do you believe in the Lord, Danny?" asked the man._

_Danny's eyes widened. "You mean God?" he asked._

_The man nodded._

_Danny shook his head. "There's no empirical evidence," he said, "and Mom always says that you shouldn't believe in things without evidence. You know that!"_

_"That's right, boy," grinned the man. "I guess I do. I'll show you some hard evidence," he continued, "and I'll make a believer out of you." He pulled out a small cross pendant, then took Danny's hand and headed towards a nearby lake._

_Jack rushed up to Danny and the man; he snatched Danny up into his arms. "Where do you think you're taking my son!?" he seethed._

_The man grinned._

_Danny blinked, dropping his half-eaten peach in shock. "Dad!?" he said, staring at Jack in his familiar hazmat suit and the man in his salmon suit. "Is he your twin brother?"_

_"No," said Jack, holding Danny tightly in one arm._

_"He said that he was going to show me empirical proof of God," said Danny._

_"I didn't mean no harm, Little Jack," said the man. "I just wanted to save your boy's soul from the pits of hell."_

_"I would never entrust my son's soul to the likes of you," said Jack tersely._

_"Dad," said Danny, wriggling in Jack's grip, "you're crushing me."_

_Jack set Danny down. "Sorry, son," he said. "The man was just teasing you. We're going home now."_

_"Okay!" said Danny. He noted the peach on the ground. "Will we come back for more peaches?" he asked. "They're yummy."_

_"Who knows?" said Jack, smiling. "Right now, I'm just thinking about your mom's homemade brownies."_

_"Brownies!" Danny ran towards the FFAV._

_Jack turned to the man, fixing an icy glare at him._

_"The boy likes peaches," grinned the man, licking his lips. "We all do, don't we?"_

_Jack trembles._

_"You got that woman attached to you, too, Jack-boy," the man continues, "and that tender li'l gal of yours."_

_"Do you really think," glowered Jack, "that I'll let you run roughshod over my family!?"_

_The man laughed. "Boy, you done plumb forgot!" he hooted. "We are family."_

_"Then I plan on pruning this sick part of my family tree real soon," Jack sneered. He turned and left, switching on a belt device._

_The man charged at Jack and dove at the ghost hunter, only to be knocked back flat by an energy field._

_Jack smirked. "Maddie will be happy to know this anti-spectral deflection field generator works," he said as he approached the FFAV._

"Don't mistake the funk I'm in," Jack says to Damon, "for surrender. Barrineau will have to kill my soul for me to allow any harm to come to my family. They're all I've got."

"Then let us help you," says Bethea.

"You want to help me?" says Jack, an obstinate scowl on his face. "Take. Danny. Home."

Damon and Bethea stare at Jack.

"I'm doing all of this crap to protect my family," spits Jack, "and I want them all at home, where I know they'll be safe, so that I can focus on work. So, please: take Danny home!"

Bethea sighs, then walks away, shaking his head.

Damon sighs. "That son of yours is stubborn," he says. "It's why he and Valerie were able to learn to get along."

Jack rolls his eyes.

"I was trying to avoid that particular topic," says Damon with a wry grin.

"It's amusing how they still think we never figured it out," says Jack, returning the grin. The smile falters as he studies Damon.

"I know. You're confused about why I brought Valerie here," says Damon. "The truth is," he sighs, "sometimes the kids end up being strong enough to protect us."

"Even from the monsters we created?" asks Jack.

"Especially from our own monsters," says Damon. "You know Bethea's number and mine. We're waiting." Damon leaves.

* * *

Danny trembles, shivering as his ghost sense triggers. "S-so...many," he says, subdued as he looks toward the peach orchard, dropping to his knees. "They're everywhere. I can hear them all...crying out over there. So much pain..."

"That out there," says Tucker, placing his hand on Danny's shoulder, "isn't your fault."

"My family inherited a plantation," says Danny, "soaked with the blood of your ancestors."

Tucker gently taps Danny's forehead with his fist. "Dude, the whole country is soaked with the blood of my ancestors-and everybody else's. We can't afford to pay for the sins of our fathers," he continues, "or we'd never be able to handle our own."

"I know that logically, presupposing the existence of sin," says Danny. "I can definitely grok why people believed in the devil back then though," he adds, "if an evil bastard like Jackie Barrineau walked the earth. I'm still skeptical of God, though."

"Why?" wonders Tucker.

"For the same reason," glowers Danny as he stands. "If he existed," he continues, "then where was he when all of these people clearly needed his almighty help? One good freak lightning bolt would have been nice, or he could have turned my cock-sucking maternal ancestor into a pillar of salt."

"We would never have been born," counters Tucker. "Your dad would never have been born. We would never have become friends in kindergarten," he muses, "and you wouldn't be here to stop him now."

"If his divine master plan to destroy the soul of one evil man required so many innocent people to suffer," scowls Danny, "then I'd say that God's evil."

"That's the easy answer, Danny," says Tucker. "Whether God exists or not," he continues, "the fact is that humanity is what it is: capable of unspeakable evil, or incredible good."

"...I'd rather blame God," says Danny. "I'm sick of shitting on the human race-whether we deserve it or not."

* * *

NEXT: What are you, when you're afraid of the dark?


	6. Oglethorpe Springs' affliction

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

4\. Oglethorpe Springs' affliction has broken the will of its people.

Sam shivers, gasping as she feels a wet, ice-cold object touch her back, between the shoulder blades.

"Sweet tea with lemon's ready, Manson," grins Dash, handing Sam the glass.

Sam savors the refreshing beverage. "Green tea's still better for you," she says. "More antioxidants."

"I guess," says Dash, gulping down half of his glass in one swig.

"You're saying so little," says Sam. "If I had known the key to keeping you silent was to work you to death on your fascist cousin's farm," she adds with a smirk, "I would have found a way to have you move here back in sixth grade."

"If I speak around here too long," says Dash, "I start retaining a Southern good ol' boy accent...aagh! It's already started!" he fumes. "Thanks, Manson."

Sam giggles.

Dash alternates between a smile and a pout as he studies Sam.

Sam's laughter subsides as she looks at Dash. "Why are you staring at me?" she wonders.

"You...look like a normal girl," says Dash.

"Compared to 'He Who Will Not Flush the Damned Toilet', I am normal," says Sam.

"Come on, Manson," says Dash. "Shane relented when you asked about 'if it's red'."

"Now that's true moon power," says Sam, making a _**Sailor Moon**_ pose with her hands.

"I would not have thought you were a fan of _**Sailor Moon**_," says Dash.

"I grew up on the laughable dub like every other American girl," says Sam, "and it still has a home in the cockles of my cold, cynical heart."

"Your 'dark, morbid outlook' motif loses its effect," says Dash, "when you don't have on the black clothes, green scrunchi, and black-purple lipstick." Dash gently places a finger on Sam's lips.

Sam rolls her eyes. "Even I'd be willing to admit that you're the most fuckable boy I've ever seen," she says, "until you open your mouth and say something idiotic."

"Even if I were mute, I'd still cram Fenton into a locker," snorts Dash, blushing.

"I know, but I wouldn't be ashamed to have any attraction to you," says Sam.

Dash turns away from Sam, his heart pounding. "Now there's a terrifying thought," he says, attempting to mask his nervousness with swagger.

"No one's more terrified than me," says Sam, her cheeks also flush. "I don't know why I'm attracted to jerkasses. I think it's related to my first kiss."

"When did that happen?" asks Dash.

Sam sighs. "I was twelve. My older cousin unilaterally decided I needed to learn," she says. "Zack Mendelsohn is such a sexist asshole."

"Zack Mendelsohn!?" balks Dash. "That creepy goth linebacker from Elmerton High? He's your cousin!?"

"Yeah," says Sam.

"So you got your goth germs from him," says Dash.

"I was already a goth at that point," counters Sam. "Zack was just another one."

"Bet he shops at _**Hot Topic**_," says Dash.

"Only because his cheerleader 'masturbatory aids' drag him along to the mall for sunlight," sneers Sam. "His words, not mine. Zack can be a creep."

"Why? Because he's your cousin," wonders Dash, "or because he's this unholy distorted fusion of goth and jock?"

"The goth and jock thing," says Sam. "Zack is everything I don't like about my subculture, combined with...being a sweaty jock. He's not even a real brunet!"

"It's not that hard to look like a goth," scoffs Dash. "Wear a ton of black, say creepy and off-kilter shit, avoid the sun, and smear eyeliner all over your face."

"Or in your case," snorts Sam, "put your black football war paint under your eyes, mess up your hair, and take off your letterman jacket."

"It worked, didn't it?" grins Dash.

"Until Zack outed you at the _Lurk and Skulk_," says Sam. "Should have worn black sneakers."

Dash pulls Sam close to him.

* * *

"What are you doing?" wonders Sam, confused.

"Amity Park seems like it's a world away," says Dash, a faraway look in his eyes as he stares out into the horizon.

"That's because Amity Park is inhabited by people who live in the real world," spits Sam, glaring down into her glass of tea.

"You mean the world where shit changes, nothing stays the same, and everything about everybody's in flux?" asks Dash.

"I suppose you don't think I live in that world any more than Shane does," pouts Sam.

Dash snorts, exasperated. "Shane's been trying to squeeze blood out of this fucking turnip of a farm for so long that he's lost it," he says.

"If it would just rain here," says Sam.

"Fuck the rain. Shane just needs to go to his ex-wife in Folly Beach, South Carolina and get laid," says Dash.

"Considering the bullshit Shane put us through, it's tempting to think that," says Sam, "but that would mean crushing his dreams of running a proper family farm where animals who are going to be slaughtered and eaten are treated humanely, with the dignity and respect they deserve," she continues, "and vegetables aren't drowned in a fuckton of pesticides more poisonous to us than the bugs they're supposed to kill. That's to say nothing of growth hormones."

"You're reciting his litany again," says Dash wryly.

Sam returns Dash's smirk. "In my case," she says, sipping her tea, "he was already preaching to the converted. Besides," continues Sam, "it's hard to argue with a man who has a master's in agriculture."

Shane walks up behind the two teenagers.

"He minored in economics," adds Dash. "'There's a market for what I'm trying to do here' is usually what he ends up preaching to my dad, the CPA who keeps trying to tell Shane to sell the farm."

"And in my expert capacity in economics," says Shane, scowling down at Dash, "who in their right mind is going to buy my farm even if I wanted to sell it?"

Dash fiddles with his half-full glass of tea. "Historical societies...?" he says after a moment.

Shane grins. "At least you have a damned answer," he says.

Dash fumes. "The farm's been operational since 1758 with only a two-year break," he blurts out.

"From 1865 to 1867," says Shane, "which was how long it took our forefathers to rebuild the farm from the ground up after Sherman burnt it down during the War." He tenses a fist. "Our farm wasn't ever the same after that fire," he continues, looking out toward Barrineau Plantation. "Our town was never the same."

"Our _country_ was never the same after the Civil War," says Sam curtly, "and it's for the best."

"I ain't arguing that," says Shane. "I wasn't talking about Sherman's March. That was the will of God."

Sam and Dash stare at Shane.

"I'm talking about that unholy fire of hell that Barrineau made of his own plantation," says Shane with conviction, "that damned the whole of Oglethorpe Springs."

"Are you serious!?" balks Sam. "Do you _really_ believe that?"

"Yes," says Shane. "Everything about that plantation is unnatural, right down to the peach trees that have ripe fruit ready all the time. Barrineau, in his final hour, decided to give a big 'fuck you' sign to the Union Army...and sent such a stink burning fart into God's nostrils that God said 'no rain to Oglethorpe Springs'!"

"Even for Baxter logic, that is insane," whispers Sam.

"'Baxter logic'!?" scoff Dash and Shane in unison.

Sam nods, mussing Dash's hair.

"The kudzu problem we have here in the South? On a sunny day," says Shane, "you can still make out our town boundaries: the kudzu stops where Oglethorpe Springs starts, and resumes its consumption of the eastern seaboard where my fair town ends. And you've both seen for yourselves what happens when a hurricane's supposed to hit here," he snorts.

Dash shakes his head.

"If I pull up stakes and leave," says Shane, "this town-my hometown-will die. I've got to do whatever it takes to make my farm work."

A cow moos.

"Sounds like Steak's ready for milking," says Dash.

"My old gal deserves some real grass before she moves on," says Shane quietly.

"I guess we'd better get ready to milk," grins Sam.

"Yeah," smiles Shane, "because you two were getting too cozy out here on the porch anyway."

Dash and Sam glance at each other a moment, then roll their eyes.

"You two were thinking about it," counters Shane. "I remember sharing many illicit moments with girls out here."

"Let's just milk Steak, okay, Shane?" scoffs Dash. He, Sam, and Shane enter the house.

* * *

"...and that's the story of how Aldridge lost his nuts," says Virgil.

Danny, Tucker, and Valerie all carefully shield their privates as they wince.

Virgil stares at Valerie. "Something you ain't tellin' us, Valerie?"

Valerie scowls at Virgil. "You're a Foley, all right. There's no doubt in my mind," she says.

"It would explain a few things," Tucker quips.

"Tucker, we dated!" spits Valerie.

"True," says Tucker, "but I never had a chance to examine your equipment."

Danny bites the knuckle of his index finger, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Are you able to verify?" Virgil asks Danny.

Danny sighs, blushing. "I do know," he says carefully, "that she was the mother of my child. She wasn't the best mother," he continues with a grin, "but I do know our little flour sack didn't become a cookie."

"'Flour sack...'?" wonders Virgil.

"My flour sack, Tucker Junior," sniffs Tucker, "was forced to have a sex change by his mother."

"It was a freshman Health Sciences project," says Valerie ruefully.

"Oh!" chortles Virgil. "It's like the eggs we had in my class. Don't feel bad, Tucker," he continues. "I was running a daycare, and my mama turned my little clients into omelettes."

"I bet that you had to give all of that money back," sighs Tucker.

"Hell, no," snorts Virgil. "My customers had to pay a non-refundable cash deposit."

"Shit!" spits Tucker. "I should have thought of that."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," says Valerie, laughing.

"Who's got the next Barrineau Plantation horror story?" asks Virgil.

"I do. Did you all know," says Valerie, "that _**Uncle Tom's Cabin**_ almost didn't get published?" Valerie begins the tale.

* * *

"The test results are in?" asks Damon, speaking into his cell phone as he types at his laptop. "Please, send them over." Damon ends the call.

"Test results?" wonders Bethea.

Damon nods. "My people from _Axion_ didn't die in vain. They forwarded soil and water samples from all over Barrineau Plantation to the main laboratory in Amity Park," he says, "and, as a control, also tested the soil and well water from Baxter Farm."

"And?" says Bethea.

"Barrineau Plantation is, for lack of better terms, cursed," says Damon. "And, much like cancer, the curse has basically metastasized throughout the town. That's why Oglethorpe Springs is drying up."

"Ol' Jackie is a malignant cancer tumor ghost," breathes Bethea. "I guess we need a surgeon to cut his ass out."

Damon sighs. "The time to cut him out passed a long time ago," he says.

"Mm-hm," adds Mary Jane Foley, working on embroidery. "You is gonna need some fresh bone marrow to deal with somethin' set in our town's blood."

Damon stares at Mary Jane.

"I cook and clean for an oncologist for thirty-five years," says Mary Jane. "You pick up shit. I ain't ignorant, now, Damon."

"Yes, ma'am," Damon smiles boyishly.

"Just remember now," continues Mary Jane soberly, "what had to be done to renew mankind in God's eye. 'For without the shedding of blood, there is no remission'."

"In context," says Damon, "the writer of Hebrews was clearly referencing Jesus' crucifixion to atone for the sins of mankind: past, present, and future. No other human sacrifice is warranted."

"You is right, Damon," says Mary Jane. "That's why we got to be real careful how the Scripture is used. In order to save Jackie Fenton and his family from Jackie Barrineau, our town got to do the redemption right. Can't be crooked in no way."

"What you gettin' at, Mrs. Mary Jane?" asks Bethea.

"The fact that we know crackers never think shit through," scowls Mary Jane. "That boy Shane Baxter been worryin' me."

"Shane? All that he's thinking about is saving his farm," says Bethea.

"And he forgettin' about reconcilin' with his wife, and leavin' his daughters up there in Folly Beach without a father," says Mary Jane. "Now, a Baxter man's head is hard on a good day, and when his mind is fixed on somethin'," she continues, "he don't let go."

"In this case," says Bethea, "you think Shane losin' his mind."

"Think!?" snorts Mary Jane. "Shane mind almost gone. He done had his li'l cousin and that li'l Sokol gal wringing out their clothes in ice coolers, won't let nobody flush the pot unless they done take a shit-and even then, he's thinking about having people take they shit out the pot and put it in compost!"

"'Sokol girl'?" asks Damon.

"Sam Manson," says Bethea. "Tucker's friend. He and Danny don't know she's here in town. Her mama kin moved from here to Amity Park and founded that town with A. T. and Bessie."

"That's right," says Damon. "Moshe Sokol and his son, Hosea 'Hoss' Sokol: they're Pamela's ancestors."

"That girl is too sweet," says Bethea. "No matter how crazy Shane might be," she continues, "he's the father of two girls: he would never raise his hand up against someone's little girl."

"Then that leave poor boy Dash," says Mary Jane. "If he don't pop his li'l cherry soon," she cackles, "then he goin' up on Shane altar like Isaac for Abraham. We can't afford to think Shane gonna find a ram in the bush, neither." Mary Jane shakes her head.

"Animal blood won't work anyway," says Damon. "If Shane's contemplating a blood ritual to purify Oglethorpe Springs and save Baxter Farm," he continues, "then he knows he'll need human blood...so we have to stop Shane before he starts an internal family feud." Damon shuts his laptop and packs it away, slinging the laptop bag onto his shoulder.

"I gots to see this," Mary Jane chuckles. "Virgil!" she crows. "You and Tucker come down here with them other chilin'. We goin' to Baxter Farm."

* * *

"Yes, Grandmama!" shouts Virgil through his open bedroom door. "Wonder if Shane tried to make grits again."

"That would be horrible, dude," says Tucker. "If he's making his greens, though, then I can't wait."

"Shane butchers and smokes his own hogs," says Virgil, "and the collards are out of his own garden. You know where all of it came from." 

"Let's go, then," says Valerie. She and Tucker leave with Virgil.

Danny starts to follow, but Bessie appears with another ghost, a black teenage male in nineteenth-century attire.

Danny studies the ghost. "Alvin Tucker Foley, I presume," he smiles. "Not the guy that just left, but you."

The ghost nods. "You can call me A. T.," he says.

"We got to go, white boy," says Bessie.

Danny scowls. "I have a name," he says.

"I know," says Bessie. "The problem is that-for obvious reasons-I hate it. Just humor me."

"'White boy' is an improvement over 'ghost'," quips Danny as he transforms, "which I'm only half of, by the way. And I didn't try to kill Valerie, either. This ghost named Technus has a way of shafting me when it comes to human relations."

"Would it make a problem with Dashiell Miles?" A. T. asks.

Danny stares at A. T. as he attempts to place the name.

"That fool Baxter boy in the red jacket who's always trying to beat you up," says Bessie.

"We just call _him_ Dash," snorts Danny.

"Did he lose his flower yet?" asks A. T. quietly.

"I don't think he ever had a flower..." says Danny.

"Did he tup him a girl yet!?" spits Bessie.

"If you two are asking me if Dash lost his virginity," balks Danny, "then my answer is 'I don't know or care'!"

"There's no indication that Samantha has fully succumbed to Dashiell Miles' charms," muses A. T., "limited though they may be."

"Sam and Dash bumping uglies is a sign of the apocalypse," says Danny ruefully, "and as I have yet to see pigs fly, the moon bleeding, or Sam eating a sausage dog, I would presume that Dash is still a virgin."

Bessie and A. T. nod.

"What? Is Dash going to be a virgin sacrifice to water his cousin's farm?" Danny scoffs.

"You know the Baxter mindset well, Jack-*" starts A. T.

"'Danny', please," says Danny. "Only my asshole schoolteacher Mr. Lancer and my greater asshole archenemy Vlad Plasmius call me 'Daniel', and no one uses 'Jackson' as a given name anymore. Even my dad just calls himself 'Jack'."

"Look," says Bessie, "is we gonna sit here talkin' about what 'white boy' should be called, or are we going to save that goofy Baxter boy from his cousin?"

"You guys are serious!?" balks Danny.

"Very much so," A. T. says. "Oglethorpe Springs' affliction has broken the will of its people."

"And no clan of white folk suffered more than the Baxters of Oglethorpe Springs," says Bessie.

"Then we have to move," says Danny. He and the two ghosts leave Virgil's room.

As the trio close in on Baxter Farm, Danny is shot; he plummets to the ground.

"What happened!?" shrieks Bessie. "Who shot him?"

"Thick, stubborn fellow who can only hold two thoughts in his head at once," says A. T. quizzically, pointing down at a ghost who levels a double-barrelled shotgun at a prone Danny.

"We ain't got time for this!" spits Bessie, about to charge down at the ghost.

Clockwork appears; he grabs A. T. and Bessie. "Then we will make the time," he says. He vanishes with the two teenage ghosts.

* * *

Danny trembles as he rises to his feet, reverting to normal. After examining himself and finding no wounds, he glares at his spectral assailant.

The ghost, an obstinate, bulky, and familiar-looking teenager wearing a brown hat, a red jacket, and blue denim dungarees, trains his shotgun on Danny.

"That won't work on me twice," seethes Danny. "Now please get out of my way."

"I reckon that it ain't clear to me why I should acquiesce to your request, Mr. Fenton," says the ghost.

"I'm here-against my better judgment-to save your dunderhead of a descendant from being a sacrificial lamb, Dashiell Hamilton Baxter," says Danny.

"I know that much," says Dashiell. "I ain't a lummox, you know."

Danny stares at Dashiell.

"Thing is," continues Dashiell, "I don't rightly see how you can justify slippin' into my home like a thief in the night."

"What kind of insane troll logic do you guys operate under!?" balks Danny. "One of your kindred is about to kill another out of the retarded belief that it will make his flavor of magical sky fairy happy enough to make it rain again and save his stupid farm!"

"Interesting," says Dashiell. "I don't reckon that Shane believes in magical sky fairies. Last I was able to see, there was some kind of nickelodeon picture about magical sky fairies that Shane's little girl likes to watch on the picture box. But fairies ain't real."

"Neither is God," says Danny.

"Then explain how the rain can't fall here when the weathermen measured all the conditions and say it should, atheist-boy," says Dashiell.

"Simple. Shane and his farm are just fucked right now. He should, logically, pick up his shit and leave to be with his kids," says Danny.

"Yeah," says Dashiell, "and you should have your ass parked in front of another picture box, playin' some shootin' game called _**Halo**_ on _XBOX Live_."

"I came here because my father is literally in mortal danger, fighting for his life and sanity," spits Danny.

"So just like you can't abandon your pa," shrugs Dashiell, "Shane can't leave Baxter Farm to twist in the wind. We Baxters have many flaws, but quittin' ain't one. You Fentons might crumple like a piece of paper," Dashiell continues with an infuriatingly-familiar grin, "but we don't budge when trouble hits."

"Fentons. Never. Quit. Furthermore," continues Danny, "I have shat out stronger ghosts than _you_, the ancestor of a kid who has teddy bears in his room."

"The room you are reputed to have 'trashed', to use the boy's own words," says Dashiell.

"For the record," spits Danny, "I didn't trash his room. An asshole named Technus did, because said ghost latched onto some technology I sold Dash to upgrade his computer. None of this matters right now, though," Danny continues, "because I need to stop Shane from murdering his cousin as a blood sacrifice."

"'All things must be done in decency and in order!'" declares Dashiell. "Otherwise, how can you set matters right, Jackson Daniel Fenton the Second?"

"I...?" Danny begins.

"Mr. Fenton," says Dashiell tersely, "you can't just come to a man's home uninvited and impose your will on him, even if you think you're doin' the right thing. Otherwise," he continues, "you ain't no better than the sorry bastard who cursed the land...or the boorish oaf whose life you're tryin' to save."

"I am not a high school jerkass bully," counters Danny, "and definitely not a sadistic thug with a veneer of gentility who is, on the scale of right and wrong, far worse than Dash Baxter, who-if I can save his life-might buy a clue someday."

Dashiell scowls.

"You do want me to save your teenage descendant, don't you?" asks Danny.

"I want you to knock on the door, like a respectable gentleman who was reared properly," says Dashiell. "It's the only way you'll be able to save my scion."

"Fine," scowls Danny, "if only to humor you." He walks up the steps to the house and knocks.

* * *

NEXT: _Forget the former things, neither consider the things of old..._


	7. I'm doing it to save you

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

5\. I'm doing it to save you.

Sam answers the door, groggy. "Danny...?" she asks, wiping rheum from her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Danny briefly looks Sam over. _She looks...hot,_ he muses. "I'll explain later, Sam," he says aloud. "Right now-as absurd as this sounds-I need to know where Dash is."

"He and Shane are in the dining nook, engaged in moronic male bonding," says Sam. "I'm stuffed full with perfectly-steamed, fresh garden vegetables and want to go to sleep."

"Did Shane cook enough food to feed the whole Ravens football team for you two?" asks Danny.

Sam nods, burping. "My compliments to the chef," she grins sheepishly.

Danny sighs. "The chef wants Dash to be a human sacrifice," he says.

"Look," says Sam, "Shane's kind of nuts, but he wouldn't kill his cousin just to call down the...actually, who the fuck am I kidding? I joked about it earlier, and he quoted _**Hebrews 9:22**_."

"Why would he even think this is the right thing to do!?" spits Danny.

"Because, Danny," says Sam, "for Shane Baxter, this farm was his mother. It fed him and clothed him before and after his mom passed away-and that happened when he was little. Losing this farm would be like losing his mother all over again."

"But..." Danny trails off as he furrows his brow in confusion.

"Imagine watching your mother as she dies, Danny," continues Sam, "and being helpless to stop any of it."

Danny stands stock still. "I don't have to imagine," he says calmly. "And it's all the more reason why I can't allow Shane to fail." He enters the dining nook...

...only to find it empty.

"Hm," says Sam, masking her worry with irritated snark as she follows Danny into the nook. "Abbatoir or altar?"

"We don't have much time," hisses Danny.

"They went out back to the barbecue pit," says Dashiell, tipping his hat as he points to the back door. "Boy ain't dead yet."

"Let's go," says Sam. "Not sure why Dash's ancestor won't just clobber Shane."

"Maybe the utter asshat part of the Baxter psyche is limited to Dash and his grandfather," scoffs Danny. He and Sam exit through the back door, headed to the barbecue pit.

* * *

"Shane," says Dash, nervously straining against the ropes. "Any reason why I'm tied up by clothesline to this butcher's slab wearing nothing but white boxers?"

Shane is silent.

"You know, Shane," says Dash, "you are a master frat hazer-you really go the extra mile. Is this what they do to all fraternity pledges in college?" he asks.

Shane turns his back on Dash, continuing his grim silence as he pulls out a switchblade. He turns around and approaches the butcher's slab, switchblade drawn.

"Shane?" asks Dash. "What are you planning to do with that knife, dude?"

"Don't worry, Dash," says Shane quietly, no emotion on his face. "I'll make this quick," he continues, "and it'll all be over soon."

"I'm...gonna die...?" wonders Dash, bewildered and hurt.

"You're a good guy," says Shane. "I wish it could be different, but-*"

A phone rings.

"Shit! How...?" asks Shane, looking wildly around the barbecue pit. "I unplugged my phone."

"That's mine," says Dash. "If you untie me, I can answer it."

"Yeah, you'll finish your phone call and then get back on the slab to get your throat slit," says Shane sardonically. "No, Dash," he continues, "I'll answer it."

"It'll be weird if you're answering my cell phone," smirks Dash.

Shane pulls Dash's flip phone out of Dash's jean pockets, opens the phone, and puts it to Dash's head.

"Yeah," says Dash. "Hey, Kwan! What's up, dude... I'm okay, more or less. Shane's a real hardass," he continues. "...yeah, he's got me tied up doing some crazy shit for the farm... Awesome...! You actually scored a date with that girl you won't tell me about...?"

Shane waves the switchblade around. "Would you wrap this shit up?" he mouths silently.

Dash glares at Shane. "Okay, Shane's bitching at me to get off the phone," he says with a thin smile at Shane. "Hope to talk to you later, man...yeah, bye."

Shane shuts the flip phone...only for it to ring again. Annoyed, he opens the phone and puts it to Dash's ear again.

"Paulina! How's Cancun...?" asks Dash.

"Keep this call short," scowls Shane under his breath.

"Sorry, Paulie; Shane's got me stuck on a project of his...you're right: it's another stupid ploy to get water to the farm," spits Dash, scowling back at Shane. "Yeah, his bathroom still smells like a urine-soaked outhouse, and yeah, he won't let Manson and me flush unless we're hit with diarrhea." Dash rolls his eyes. "Got to get off now before Shane kills me," he scoffs. "Bye."

"Thank you," spits Shane. "Let's just get-the fuck!" he seethes as the phone rings. "This damned cell phone again!?"

"What do you want from me, Shane?" snorts Dash. "I'm popular! I have friends. Maybe you should have found a _lonely_ teenage virgin to sacrifice."

"Tried that already," Shane mutters, pouting at Dash. "Fuckin' nerd caught on too quick for me."

Dash laughs as Shane opens the phone again. "Oh, Star," he says. "How are you...? Yeah, Shane's still not getting laid. He's in shock about how booked my social calendar is," grins Dash, smug.

Shane closes his switchblade, pocketing it. _I have to cool off,_ he muses. _Don't want to be in the wrong frame of mind when the deed is done: can't afford to enjoy the thought of killing him._

Dash continues chatting with Star.

_The boy's makin' it real hard for me __not__ to want him dead,_ says Shane, a rueful grin on his face. _It ain't even his fault, though: I was just as popular in high school._

* * *

Danny and Sam stare at the barbecue pit in disbelief.

"This has to be the longest human sacrifice ever," balks Sam.

"It's like every member of Dash's entourage has decided to call him at the worst possible time for Shane's ritual," grins Danny, noting Shane's mounting frustration.

In the distance, Dash ends another call; the phone rings again.

Livid, Shane flips open the phone. "What the fuck do you want..!?" he snarls. He abruptly drops to his knees. "No...no...I'm sorry, punkin'. Your daddy's workin' a bit too hard," Shane says gently.

"Shane's eight-year old is on the phone," Sam explains. "She named the family cow when she was five."

Danny blinks, confused.

"I didn't mean it, Emily... I'm sorry... I'll get you a snow cone the next time I'm in Folly Beach...what's your favorite flavor...that's right! Strawberry-pineapple-coconut, just for you...oh, your mama wants to talk to me...?" asks Shane, nervous. "Okay, honey: put her on..."

Danny and Sam hear a knock at the front door.

"I'll get it," says Sam. "You get ready to stop Shane. Dash's unbelievable luck won't hold forever."

"I'm not so sure of that," says Danny. "He managed to hijack our RPG campaign when he punched out our DM and nearly TPKed my party, remember?" asks Danny.

"Yeah," snorts Sam. "Your dad and mine basically had to save your ass until Tucker and I arrived."

"'Dashiell the Dunce' turned me into a frog! I was literally reliving the plot of _**Chrono Trigger**_ because of this jackass," says Danny, grinning, "who, admittedly, is an awesome DM. We gained seven levels from his sick dungeon."

"Yeah," says Sam. "Even I'll admit that he rocked-even though the bastard nearly forced my character out of her alignment. Be right back," she says as she leaves to answer the front door.

"...we'll talk about this later, Helen," says Shane soberly. "I've got work to do. Bye, now." He looks down at Dash. "Now how'd you get _them_ to call!?" he demands.

"They didn't want to jack up your phone bill with collect calls," says Dash, "so Helen asked for my number months ago."

Shane sighs. "Damned cell phones. There ain't no more calls, though," he says, "so I can finish this." Shane pulls out his switchblade...

...only for the phone to ring again.

"Who is it!?" Shane spits, attempting to sound like Dash. "I can't talk to you right now, Mom-I'm busy workin'...what do you mean 'put Dash on the line'!?" balks Shane.

"That...was pitiful," chuckles Danny, stifling his laughter.

Sam returns, with Tucker, Valerie, Virgil, Damon, Bethea, and Mary Jane.

"Ain't no way Shane gonna fool Dash's mama," says Bethea. "A woman know her child, now."

"Lindsay, quit bitching at me!" Shane spits into the phone. "Dash is tied up at the moment and can't talk! Good bye!" Shane shuts the phone...

...only for the flip phone to ring again...and again...and again...

Mary Jane approaches Shane, who trembles. "Shane-boy," she says gently, stroking Shane's forearm. "You just ain't meant to do it this way here. Let it go."

Shane drops to his knees as he lets the switchblade fall to the ground; he answers the phone. "Hello..." he groans, emotionally worn. "I'm sorry, Drew: I know I'm bein' a real shithead... I'll explain later...bye." He shuts the phone, then stands and turns to the assembled group, kicking the switchblade over to Danny. "How the fuck did Dash keep gettin' all of these calls?" he asks.

"I honestly have no idea," says Danny, relieved as he picks up and shuts the switchblade.

"'In a multitude of counselors there is safety'," grins Tucker. "With a little help from text messaging and _Verizon Wireless_."

"Son-of-a-bitch," snickers Shane, grinning at Tucker.

"Tucker," say Danny and Sam in unison, "you rock."

"Can we please free Dash now?" says Valerie.

Shane approaches the group; Damon and Virgil grab Shane's arms.

Sam heads to the butcher's slab to free Dash as the group leaves with Shane.

Dash smiles at Sam. "Hey, Manson," he says, "don't you think I'm the sexiest hunk of human sacrifice you've ever seen?"

"'Even a fool, when he holds his peace, is counted wise'," says Sam wryly; she kisses Dash's forehead, then turns to leave.

"No!" shrieks Dash. "Don't even joke, Manson! I don't want to stay out here exposed to this fucking humidity in my shorts!"

Sam smirks. "I feel sorry for Shane," she says. She unties one of Dash's wrists, then leaves the slab.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" says Dash ruefully as he finishes freeing himself.

"Hell, yeah," says Sam as she leaves the barbecue pit, entering the house through the back door.

Dash shakes his head a moment, then dons his clothes and follows Sam into the house.

* * *

"What kind of power does that boy Dash have?" wonders Bessie as she looks down at Baxter Farm with A. T. and Clockwork.

"None," says Clockwork. "He's a thoroughly ordinary human."

"But there has to be some reason Shane wanted his blood, other than the boy bein' undeflowered," says Bessie.

"I think," says A. T., "that the men of the Baxter clan will continue to surprise us with their will and perseverance."

"We won't be the only ones," says Clockwork.

Bessie stares at Clockwork. "Mr. Clockwork," she says. "You ain't easily surprised."

"True," says Clockwork, "but I had expected Danny to be a bit more stubborn with Dashiell. Sometimes, I even surprise myself."

"We still need pure blood to purge the land of Ol' Jackie," says Bessie.

"Let's...just observe them for now," says Clockwork. They phase into the house.

* * *

Shane tosses Danny a set of bound, aged documents.

Danny carefully opens the documents, then reads them. He looks up at Shane. "So, let me get this straight, Mr. Baxter," he says slowly after he sets the documents onto the dining room table. "You were willing to kill your own cousin, and be thrown in prison until the state of Georgia strapped you into a gurney and killed you-leaving your two daughters fatherless...for a chance at bringing rain to your farm."

Shane nods, his expression grim.

"Do you have any idea how utterly fucked-up that is, sir?" Danny demands.

"Yeah," says Shane, "but there ain't no other way to counter what your kin Barrineau did to fuck Oglethorpe Springs. I did the same kind of tests on my soil that Damon's boys from _Axion_ did, using an outfit called DALV in Madison, Wisconsin. Whether you believe in 'magical sky fairies' or not," continues Shane, "the fact remains that the land is cursed, and virgin blood is required to lift the curse."

Danny glances at Dash, watching as the blond jock winces, fumes, and blushes simultaneously at the word 'virgin'. _Somehow,_ says Danny to himself with a bemused smile, _I think Dash is more pissed at Shane for outing him as a virgin than for trying to kill him._

"DALV bought out _Axion_, says Damon tersely, "and had you simply asked me, Shane," he continues, "I would have told you that even had you _succeeded_ in murdering Dash for your ritual, his blood would not have had any effect."

"W-what!?" balks Shane.

"Human virgin blood had no more effect on the soil samples than any other blood," says Damon. "Stick to farming, man."

Dash glowers at the primary document in Shane's packet, then reads one of Damon's manila folders.

"So, we can put the myth of 'virgin power' to rest," quips Sam, mussing Dash's hair.

"Dude, we are totally savoring this rich blackmail material," grins Tucker. "Fair warning."

"It makes me all hot and bothered," adds Valerie wryly.

"Shane," scoffs Dash, "I'm sure that Foley would be glad to die for the cause."

"No blood sharing DNA markers with Barrineau, nor the blood of anyone of African descent, will work," says Damon.

"_Axion_ and DALV done test this shit thoroughly, huh?" says Shane.

Damon nods. "We need to twist Jack's arm and get him to let us help," he says.

"You can forget it, Mr. Gray," says Danny. "Dad's in full 'my family's in danger' mode."

"My family's in danger, too," counters Damon curtly.

"I recognize that, sir," says Danny.

"You know," says Dash quietly as he shuts the manila folder, "I'd be happy to give my blood to the cause."

Shane stares at Dash, astounded.

"Problem is," Dash continues, "I don't want to die."

Shane fumes. "Damn it, Dash! How the hell else am I supposed to get your blood!? You and Sam are the only virgins in this room I can use," he continues, "and for obvious reasons, I ain't raisin' my hand against a girl!"

"Dude: way to presume I'm a virgin," fumes Tucker.

"You're black and kin to Barrineau, stupid," snorts Valerie.

"And you just outed yourself as a virgin, dude," adds Virgil.

Shane looks at Danny.

"My dad's a direct blood descendant who looks just like him," says Danny.

"And even if Danny were adopted," says Damon glibly, "Danny can't lay claim to virginity."

"Wait-what sad girl was desperate enough to fuck Fenton!?" balks Dash, whimpering. "I can't believe he popped his cherry before I did."

Valerie lifts a manila folder, blushing.

Mary Jane cackles. "You chilin' is so stupid," she says.

Dash shakes his head. "Tell me, Shane: did you get your master's degree from _Sears_?" he asks after a moment.

"No, asshole," says Shane, "from _Texas A &amp; M_."

"Fine," says Dash. "Let's pretend for a moment that we live in the twenty-first century, where we don't have to kill people to get pints of their blood anymore."

"We do live in the twenty-first century," spits Shane, "and we don't...have to..." Shane trails off as he realizes Dash's point. "I'm a fuckin' idiot after all," he says after a moment. "I'll head on to _Sears A &amp; M_ and demand a refund."

"We don't have time for that," says Dash. "Just get me over to a blood bank so I can donate my blood and save you."

Shane stares at Dash.

"If my blood can somehow make it rain here-and I have no idea how or why," continues Dash, "then I'll give it. Besides," he continues, "I'm hardly Baby Jesus, and He's probably already pissed off that you didn't think that Him-God incarnate-being flayed alive and crucified by the Praetorian Guard was good enough to expiate the sins of Fenton's great-great grandpa."

"The boy's right," says Mary Jane. "Ol' Jackie done sent up a nasty stench to God's nose as it is. You killin' your own kin or anybody else in a blood ritual would have made shit worse."

"Then I guess we should thank God for the _American Red Cross_," says Shane sheepishly.

"If you want to make it up to me," says Dash, "then after all of this crap is over, go to Helen and let her take care of your raging needs in Folly Beach."

"What?" wonders Shane.

"I told you," says Dash. "I'm not doing this to save the farm. I'm doing it to save you. Baxters built a new farm before, you know," Dash grins. "Can't exactly build a new Shane."

Shane trembles, grinning as tears stream down his cheeks.

"If you're willing to do this, boy," says Bethea, "then let's give it a shot."

Dash nods; he stands up along with the others.

Everyone leaves the dining nook except Danny, still seated as he fiddles with the manila folder.

"You're not coming, Fenton?" asks Dash, standing in the doorway.

"I'm...going to see if I can get through to my dad," says Danny, worried. "I don't know if he'll listen to me the way Shane did to you."

"Family's easy," shrugs Dash. "I just talked to Shane in a way he'd understand. Later, Fenton. Don't trash my cousin's house." He leaves.

Danny fumes. "I'm getting out of here right now before Technus shows up," he mutters. Before he exits the dining nook, however...

...his ghost sense goes off.

* * *

Bessie, A. T., and Dashiell appear with Clockwork.

"I gotta be honest," says Bessie. "I didn't think he had it in him."

"It's not that surprising," counters A. T., looking towards Dashiell.

Dashiell takes his hat off. "The boy done me proud. Not quite at the level of his great-grandfather," he continues, "but shit-he's only fifteen. Who's gonna be mature at that age?"

"Fair enough," says Danny.

"Let's get up to that 'blood bank'," says Bessie. "We need to stick close to them."

"More than ever," adds A. T. "Daniel Fenton," he continues, "you're the only one here in Oglethorpe Springs who has a key to your father's heart. You're the only one with the power to protect him."

"But...no pressure," grins Danny, trembling.

A. T. and Bessie leave through the roof; Dashiell phases through the door.

"I still don't get why everyone thinks Dash's blood will work when the other tests failed," says Danny to Clockwork.

"Pure blood can only come from willing souls," says Clockwork. "Once the test subjects were truthfully advised that the soil was cursed by an evil ghost, the virgins freely donated their blood samples, and it weakened the strength of the curse."

"Will Dash's blood be enough," asks Danny, "to undo Jackie Barrineau's evil?"

"A single candle alone can't dispel the darkness," says Clockwork.

"Then...?" wonders Danny.

"As a moth is drawn to a flame," says Clockwork, "so are men drawn to the light."

"You're starting to sound like Kwai Chang Caine from _**Kung Fu**_," says Danny.

Clockwork grins. "I love that show," he says. "_**Kill Bill**_ was kick-ass too, though."

"Yeah; Uma Thurman was hot," says Danny.

"True," says Clockwork, "but I'm a huge David Carradine fan."

Danny rolls his eyes; Clockwork chuckles.

"What am I supposed to do?" asks Danny after a moment.

"Only you know the answer to that," says Clockwork. "I'm the Master of Time, not the human heart." He phases out of the house through the ceiling.

Danny sighs, then opens the door and exits the house.

* * *

NEXT: Family ties go above and beyond the grave.


	8. To protect the father he loves

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

6\. To protect the father he loves.

"Give up, boy," says Jackie. "You ain't drivin' me off my land. I didn't cede none of my property to Yankees before," he continues, "and I ain't about to crack now because one is kin to me."

"You're dead, Jackson," sneers Jack, tired. "You can't whip, maim, or fuck people anymore than you already have."

"Only a matter of time before that changes, Little Jack," grins Jackie. "You smell like the ass of a skunk with diarrhea, boy, 'cause you haven't bathed in days. I know you want to drive that there Fenton Family Assault Vehicle to the nearest hotel and take a hot shower."

"Yeah, I want to shower," spits Jack, rubbing his coarse, stubbly beard. "If I knew I'd be exposed to your toxic bullshit for weeks on end," he continues, "I would have just worn my hazmat suit."

"The humidity here can be unpleasant," says Jackie. "Drives folk mad after a while."

Jack takes off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and wrings it out.

"Might want to go and do that near the peach orchard," says Jackie. "The trees need water."

"If you'd just leave," says Jack as he unfurls and dons his T-shirt, "then it would rain for the first time in nearly 150 years."

"Only way I'm leaving is through you," says Jackie, a wicked glint in his eyes, "or Danny-boy."

"You will never break me," seethes Jack, "and you will _never_ touch my son."

Jackie snickers. "I'm closer to your boy," he says, "and more of a father, than you'll ever be. I figure that the best thing for you and your family is for you to surrender to the bigger man."

Jack trembles.

"That boy don't respect you, fear you, or trust you, not at all," sneers Jackie. "I know more about Danny-boy's comin' and goin' than you do."

"You don't know shit about my family!" snarls Jack.

"The things I could tell you!" Jackie hoots, rubbing his hands with glee. "But let's face facts, Jack-boy," he continues. "That Specter Deflector of yours ain't waterproof. You can't shower while wearing it, and you know I ain't bound to my plantation or Oglethorpe Springs. I can be places you can't be," hisses Jackie, "and when I catch you in that hour of weakness I'll take hold of you."

"I'll die before I let that happen," scowls Jack. "You can't overshadow a corpse."

"Good. I'll be able to take Danny-boy under my wing that much sooner," says Jackie with a knowing smirk. "That boy needs a _real_ father."

The padlocked wooden door behind the wrought-iron gate rattles as a faint pounding echoes through the plantation.

"Dad!" cries Danny's voice. "Come on; answer the door!"

Jack's eyes widen. Squaring his shoulders, Jack walks over to the gate and unlocks it.

Danny stands just outside the gate.

* * *

Danny looks over Jack, then leans into Jack's chest. "Dad..." he says.

"Yes, son?" asks Jack.

"You reek," grins Danny, chuckling.

Jack musses Danny's hair. "It's your own fault for not staying home, away from your smelly dad," he quips.

"Not even your lethal levels of B. O. will get rid of me," says Danny. "I've spent fifteen years of my life putting up with your parenting," he snorts, hugging Jack, "so this is nothing."

"You've only been _alive_ fifteen years," says Jack.

"Exactly," says Danny. "Do you remember when we had it out? I was thirteen, and covered in ecto-goop from a ghost experiment that went wrong."

"I remember," says Jack softly.

"I just want to say..." says Danny, "...that you were right."

"About society and you being a whiny, entitled adolescent?" winces Jack.

"Not that, Dad," says Danny. "It's the fact that I need you."

Jack stares at Danny.

"I need you: with your big manic grin, and your orange hazmat suit, and your rancid B. O., and the FFAV," says Danny. "You're my dad, and I'm lucky to have you...when I need you the most."

"And I need you, son..." says Jack, "...to go home."

"Not going to happen," says Danny.

"Why...?" winces Jack.

"You're trying to protect us," says Danny, "but who will protect _you_? You're irreplaceable, Dad. Without you," he continues, "I wouldn't be the person I am, and Jazz wouldn't be who she is."

"Part of that," says Jack, "is because I've always tried to push you to fight your own battles. Doesn't the same apply to me?" he asks.

"I know what you're getting at," grins Danny wryly. "But remember the tabletop session Dash hijacked at school?"

"Where Dash turned you into an anthropomorphic frog and killed off most of your party?" asks Jack. "I couldn't let you get your character mauled like that-you were playing your class like an idiot because you kept letting Dash get under your skin."

"Exactly," says Danny. "Let me return the favor."

"Danny," says Jack soberly. "This isn't like a standard tabletop game. You can't write up a new character sheet if you die."

"Neither can you," says Danny, trembling in Jack's arms.

Jack stares at Danny.

"I'm a flawed person, Dad," says Danny. "If I lose any one of you, I'm not sure if I can handle it."

"Danny..." Jack breathes.

"And also," continues Danny, "The Foleys and the Grays: they have skin in this fight, too. Even without being related to us through Barrineau," he continues, "Tucker's my best friend, so I consider him family. And as for Valerie..." Danny shakes his head.

"What about Valerie?" asks Jack.

"Nothing will stand between Valerie Gray and her goals," says Danny.

"She's highly motivated," grins Jack.

"Just let us help, Dad," says Danny.

"How?" asks Jack.

"For you to find out," says Danny, "let's step outside, and take you to a hotel to shower. Because while I do love you, Dad," he continues with a grin as he breaks the embrace, "you do seriously reek."

Jack studies Danny. "He'll stop at nothing," he says after a moment, nodding towards Jackie.

Virgil arrives, driving his school's athletic bus. He steps out of the bus, then blows a sports whistle.

The Peach Creek High football team emerges from the bus, each player activating his Specter Deflector, along with the cheerleading squad. The team assembles a makeshift shower and water tank.

"We decided to bring the bathing to you, sir," says Virgil, also turning on his Specter Deflector.

Bemused, Jack exits Barrineau Plantation and approaches the football team. The team drags Jack into the shower, then forms a human Specter Deflector wall around the shower. The cheerleaders form an outward-facing pyramid atop the human wall.

Virgil grins, nodding to Danny.

Danny shuts the gate, then changes into the Phantom.

"Oh," says Jackie, smirking. "You done come to dance, boy?"

"Yeah," says Danny, as the Phantom. "Hope you can keep up, old man."

The ghost and halfa charge at each other.

* * *

"Now, Madeline," Jack hisses crudely into Maddie's ear. "You know what I want, and how I like it."

"Let go of me," spits Maddie. "You're not yourself, hon."

"Woman," says Jack curtly, "you know damned well to render 'due benevolence' unto me."

Maddie's eyes narrow; she elbows Jack, then judo-flips him over her shoulder...

* * *

"You are not my husband!" Maddie shrieks, seething as tears form in her eyes. She sits upright in her bed, inside a guest room at Vlad's castle.

Vlad stares at Maddie, shocked at the rage and pain in her eyes. "I...know I'm not," he says gently.

Maddie blinks at Vlad, then rubs her arms.

"That nightmare again?" asks Vlad.

"It's not a nightmare," says Maddie, sullen. "Something is impersonating Jack and invading my dreams-like Freddy Krueger."

"That's definitely something to investigate," says Vlad. "I would say that for now, you need to get some rest, but..."

"Don't worry, Vlad," says Maddie, putting on a Specter Deflector. "I'll be able to rest better now that I have an idea of what I'm dealing with," she adds as she activates it.

Vlad studies Maddie as he sits in a chair. "How did you know you weren't just having a nightmare about Jack...forcing himself onto you?" he asks.

"Because the assailant," says Maddie grimly, "started quoting biblical scripture at me-and Jack would never do that, or try to force me to..."

"'Biblical...'" Vlad's eyes widen with sad realization. "Like your father..." he says.

Maddie nods. "The question is," she asks, "how could some random ghost use my past against me? You and Jack are the only ones who know about my childhood: about what happened with my mother and sister."

"Indeed. That's very disturbing," says Vlad, standing abruptly. "I'll have DALV investigate this immediately." Without another word, Vlad leaves Maddie's room.

* * *

Dash wipes his face with his shirt, sweating. "It's muggy as hell out here," he groans.

Shane presents a cup.

Dash scowls at Shane. "Dude, we're going to beat the shit out of Jackie so that it will rain," he says, "and you can stop this insanity. Now back off!"

Shane winces. "Force of habit..." he mutters.

Dash chuckles at the gate to Barrineau Plantation. _I can't believe that Fenton had the balls to go in there alone,_ he muses. _He's probably wetting his pants by now-which Shane would try to collect to water his fucking cabbages,_ he adds, exasperated with Shane's water obsession.

Tucker approaches Dash. "You look like you're itching to give someone a wedgie," he says.

Dash grins crudely at Tucker. "Get me those Fenton Gauntlets, Foley," he says ruefully, "and I'll give Jackie an atomic wedgie-then kick him in the nuts!"

"For you," says Valerie, rolling her eyes, "it's probably a territorial dispute."

"Damn right," says Dash. "There's only enough room in this small town for one bully," he continues, "and it sure as hell won't be the ancestor of the geek I stuff in a locker once a week."

Valerie smiles thinly. "With all due respect, Dash," she says, "I will be the one beating the shit out of Jackie Barrineau."

"You're not permitted, Gray," snorts Dash.

"I'm not part of your stupid A-List anymore," sneers Valerie, "which means I don't have to do what you say."

"Backfire, dude," adds Tucker.

Damon shakes his head as he turns to Bethea. "The fact that she never had to obey his every whim has probably escaped her," he smiles.

"That's because they're both teenagers," says Bethea.

"Seriously, Gray," says Dash, "I've been Fenton's nemesis since kindergarten, and from where I sit, Barrineau is just his chunky ghost ancestor-*"

Dash's cell phone rings; he fishes it out of his cargo shorts pocket.

* * *

"How's everything holding up, Jack?" asks Vlad, squinting at Jack's grainy image from the FFAV's satellite phone.

"Better than expected, though-as you know-Danny's here. He's in there alone with Jackie," says Jack grimly.

"He'll pull through, Jack," says Vlad soberly. "He's stronger than you think." _Stronger than you can possibly know,_ he adds to himself.

"Look," says Jack, scowling, "you're Damon's boss, right? Maybe you can tell him and his clan to back off."

Vlad sighs. "I can't ask Damon or Bethea to withdraw from a fight that they're personally invested in," he says, "not even for their safety."

"But you know how dangerous Jackie is!" spits Jack. "I've got all of these kids from the local high school, to say nothing of Danny and his-*"

"Jack," says Vlad curtly, "it will all work out. Don't let that cretin get to you."

"You don't get it!" counters Jack. "My family is all I have."

"And Daniel values you so highly," says Vlad, "that he's willing to risk his life to protect the father he loves."

Jack stares at Vlad.

"I...I envy you, Jack," Vlad continues. "I would trade all of my wealth for your family if I could."

"Even your Knute Rockne-autographed football?" asks Jack.

"No family is worth that much," smirks Vlad, "though I admit that Maddie does come close," he adds, losing his smile.

"I know. I meant what I said earlier," says Jack.

"Don't think like that," says Vlad.

"Why not, Vlad? It's true, isn't it?" says Jack. "If we're friends, we have to be honest with each other-especially about Maddie."

"Jack," says Vlad, "if I took every idiotic thing you've said while you were drunk seriously-*"

"If anything happens to me," says Jack, "please make sure that Maddie and Jazz are happy and safe. And Danny too-when I send him home out of harm's way."

"You...you have my word, Jack," says Vlad.

Damon appears on the monitor, having pushed Jack aside.

"Mr. Gray," says Vlad crisply, "was there any cause for that?"

* * *

"Mr. Masters," says Damon, tense yet calm. "Please explain to Mr. Fenton that I won't be swayed from this. If you expect me to back down, sir," he continues, "then I will tender my resignation immediately."

"There's no need for that, Mr. Gray," says Vlad through the FFAV's satellite phone. "I've already explained to Mr. Fenton that regardless of your employment with my company, your family comes first," he adds as Jack returns to the satellite phone. "That's something that Mr. Fenton can empathize with."

"Oh, you two are just double-teaming me, huh?" asks Jack, looking between Damon and Vlad.

"I just want to use my expertise to help you drive Jackie from Oglethorpe Springs, Jack," says Damon.

"And from here," adds Vlad, "I will provide the weight of _Axion_ and DALV to aid you both."

Jack sighs. "I recognize that you have skin in the game, Damon," he says. "But these other people-including my reckless son," he continues, "don't need to deal with Jackie Barrineau."

"Everyone in this town has 'skin in the game', Jack," counters Damon. "The Foleys, the McLanes, the Poindexters, and especially the Baxters are all being pushed out of Oglethorpe Springs-and it's all due to Jackie's influence."

"And I'm trying to drive him out!" says Jack.

"And you can't do it alone," says Damon tersely. "We've tried asking you, but that hasn't worked: so I'm telling you that we're helping you."

* * *

"...it was a bit different without you in town; I'll say that..." says Jazz, speaking with Dash on a cordless phone in Vlad's castle. "I'm with my mom; we're both staying with a friend of hers and my dad in Wisconsin..." Jazz gasps, her eyes wide. "Dash...?" she asks, noting an extended silence.

"Okay...so why did I hear my dad and Mr. Gray's voices...?" asks Jazz when Dash returns to the phone. "...you really expect me to buy that...?"

Jazz sighs. "Fine...I'll let you go, then...it's okay, Dash," she grins. _Maybe I'm being a bit hard on him,_ Jazz muses, _but he has no reason to lie to me-and such a stupid lie at that._

"Just one more question...calm down!" continues Jazz. "Have you seen Danny...? Dash, quit making fake static noise on the phone..."

Jazz ends the call on her cordless headset, then sets the headset onto its receiver. "'The call cannot be completed as dialed' error message shouldn't sound like Tucker!" she fumes aloud.

Maddie enters the room, carrying a football. "Let's talk with Vlad," she smiles thinly.

"I suspect we're going on a road trip to Georgia," says Jazz.

Maddie nods; she and Jazz leave Vlad's study, Maddie picking up a letter opener on the way out.

* * *

NEXT: Slaying one-winged ghost angels.


	9. The harder they fall

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

7\. The harder they fall...

Dash plants a chaste kiss on Sam's lips as Sam wakes.

Sam blinks, then stretches. "You know," she says, "the princess is supposed to kiss the frog."

"Yeah," says Dash with a thin smile, "but you're hardly a princess, Manson. Anyway," he continues, exiting Bethea's SUV, "we'd better move before Gray mauls us both."

"You two can make cross-clique kissy-faces on your own time!" bellows Valerie. "We have work to do!"

"I was just waking 'Sleeping Goth-y'," snorts Dash. "Get over yourself, Gray."

Sam steps out of the SUV, noting a black and silver minivan alongside the Peach Creek High bus, Shane and Bethea's SUVs, and the FFAV. "Looks like we have some new arrivals," she says.

"Jazz called to check on Fenton," says Dash, "and it snowballed to that." He points at Jack, clad in a large bath towel, rubbing his cheek as Maddie scowls at him-then abruptly kisses him.

"Love hurts, I guess," quips Sam.

"It sure as hell hurt Mr. Fenton," says Dash, brushing his hand along Sam's shoulder.

Sam trembles briefly, blushing as she inches away from Dash. "You still taste like failure, by the way," she says quizzically.

"And you still taste like geek," Dash retorts, sticking out his tongue, "but I won't hold that against you."

"Let's just get the sacrifical blood in place, champ," says Sam.

Dash nods, then takes Sam's hand in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He gazes into Sam's eyes.

Sam stares at Dash.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Manson," Dash says, "but I'd like to figure out what exactly is between us. Hopefully," he continues, "it's just a wall, but...be careful anyway. I want to harass and tempt you with cheeseburgers when school starts back up." Dash releases Sam's hand and walks away; towards the Peach Creek High football team, Virgil, Maddie, and Jack.

Sam touches her chin, then briefly brushes her fingers over her lips; she shakes her head, then heads over to Bethea, Damon, Shane, Mary Jane, and Jazz...standing with Vlad.

* * *

"Why do you keep fightin' me, boy?" says Jackie, looming over the Phantom.

"Biologically, I'm a Fenton," smirks the Phantom, "so ghost-hunting is in the blood. As for my ghostly half," he continues, standing, "if I accept the logic that there aren't any coincidences, then I was born to fight assholes like you."

"My roots are set real deep here," says Jackie. "Your power won't be enough."

The Phantom stares down at the ground a moment, then unleashes a Ghostly Wail on Jackie.

Jackie trembles from the attack, then smirks. "Not a bad little yelp from you, boy," he says. "But I've got some pipes, too." Jackie fires back his own, stronger Ghostly Wail.

The Phantom collapses; he drops to his knees and clutches his ears. _His power is amplified by all of the ghosts here,_ he seethes. _Barrineau's drawing his strength from the souls of the people he enslaved._

"You see, boy?" Jackie sneers as he pulls out his whip. "I done trained them good, beyond death even." He hits the Phantom with his whip.

The Phantom stifles a cry, glaring at Jackie in defiance. "Do your worst," he spits.

"If you insist," Jackie snickers. He whips the Phantom repeatedly.

* * *

Jack, back in his orange hazmat jumpsuit, opens the gate to Barrineau Plantation. "Since you all _insist_ on helping me," he says dourly, scowling at Damon, "let me show you what you're all up against."

The group witnesses the Phantom, writhing in pain as Jackie flogs the ghostly hero with his whip.

Dash's eyes widen. "Gimme a Fenton Thermos!" he spits at Jack, Maddie, and Jazz.

"It won't work on Jackie!" says Jack.

"Just do it!" orders Dash.

Jazz tosses Dash a Thermos.

Dash charges at Jackie, signalling the football team. "Cover me!" he demands.

One player scratches his head. "He ain't even on our team," he says.

"Dude," says Virgil, "let him call the plays."

Dash uses the Thermos on the Phantom, depriving Jackie of his victim.

Jackie glowers at Dash. "Baxter," he seethes, "you low-bred piece of nigger-loving shit."

"Whatever, dude," Dash smirks as the Peach Creek High football team forms into an offensive line in front of him. "I'll be thinking of you when I cram your scrawny little descendant into a locker."

Danny, inside the Thermos, chuckles ruefully. _Somehow,_ he muses, _I think I got pulled out of the frying pan and into the fire._

Jackie grins. "Rugby, eh?" he says. "I remember my halcyon youth in _Harvard_ well." 

"'Rugby'?" mutters a tackle.

"Something like that," says Dash, rolling his eyes as he hands the Thermos to the guard to hike.

"I was a whipping post," scoffs Danny, "and now I'm a football. I have a fucked-up life. Spider-Man never had to deal with shit like this-and he had Flash Thompson as a school nemesis."

Jackie cracks his whip, and the ghosts of the slaves of Barrineau Plantation appear as a mass, in rugby defense formation around Jackie.

The Thermos is hiked; Dash fakes a lateral pass to a running back, instead throwing a Hail Mary pass to Shane.

Jackie fumes. "That isn't proper rugby form!" he spits.

"We don't play rugby round these parts, Jackie!" sneers Shane.

"Exactly," adds Dash. "We play American-style football with a forward pass here in the land of the free and the home of the brave."

"Where _everyone_ is free, you son of a bitch!" says Valerie, punctuating her comment with a Fenton Gauntlet-enhanced punch.

"Who gave your daughter the Gauntlets to attach to her suit?" Jack asks Damon quizzically as Shane and Bethea take the Thermos to safety.

Damon shrugs.

"I did," says Maddie.

"Are you still angry?" asks Jack sheepishly.

"Ghost-hunting is a family affair," says Maddie curtly, touching Jack's beard while glancing at Vlad in irritation.

Vlad cradles and pets a football.

Virgil notes the football. "Dude," he says, "Knute Rockne?"

"_None_ shall touch my Knute Rockne-autographed ball!" glowers Vlad, guarding the football jealously. "Never again."

"Mom held his football hostage with a letter opener to make him drive us here from Wisconsin," explains Jazz.

"And you're shaving this as soon as we get home, hon," Maddie continues. "You look like a mountain man." 

"Yes, ma'am. Though at least I'm a _clean_ mountain man," grins Jack.

"I have to say, Jack," chuckles Damon, "that Valerie couldn't contain herself."

* * *

Shane gives Bethea the Thermos.

"Go on back and help your cousin, Shane," says Bethea.

Shane nods. "I owe Dash a lot," he says.

"He'll be sure to collect," chuckles Bethea. "He ain't that dense."

Shane snickers at this, then leaves.

After a moment, Bethea looks around to make sure she was alone, then releases Danny from the Thermos.

Danny emerges on his hands and knees, trembling in pain and humiliation as he rises to his feet. "When I heal," he spits, "I'm going to nail this bastard."

"I guess I was wrong about him hurtin' his only begotten," muses Bethea.

Danny starts to open his mouth, but Bethea touches the halfa's lips.

"Don't try to shit me, Danny Fenton," smiles Bethea. "Your hair and eyes have changed, but you got the same floofy white boy hair."

"That simply means that I'm a white kid," says Danny, resuming his Phantom persona.

"I've also got spiritual powers," says Bethea, placing hands on Danny's wounds as she speeds along Danny's healing.

"Wonder what will happen," sighs Danny as he reverts to normal, "when Valerie puts two and two together."

"Hopefully, by that time," says Bethea, "the both of you will be mature enough that Valerie can look past the outward forms, and see you for who you really are."

"I guess the first thing to do, then," says Danny, "is to put an end to the asshole taking a dump on my bloodline's good name."

Bethea nods. She and Danny head back to Barrineau Plantation, Danny changing into the Phantom.

* * *

"This is starting to look like a bad _**Dragon Ball Z**_ episode," says Tucker as Valerie repeatedly punches Jackie.

Jackie seethes, then his eyes glow red. "I have never been so accosted by a nigger," he spits, "not even uppity bitches like you."

"This bitch," says Valerie, "was born to destroy you."

The slave ghosts mutter to themselves, a few of the ghosts grinning in admiration.

"Hold her down!" Jackie orders the other ghosts. "I'm fixin' to teach this gal a lesson."

Shuddering, the mass of slave ghosts reluctantly obey Jackie, taking hold of Valerie.

"Make her kneel," grins Jackie crudely as he knocks aside Dash and the football team with a wave of spectral power.

Valerie struggles to remain standing, but the slave ghosts force her to her knees.

"Girl," says Jackie coldly as he prepares his whip, "this is simply the lot of all those who are bound by-and labor under-the curse of Canaan." Jackie starts to whip Valerie...

...except Tucker takes hold of Jackie's whip hand, his eyes glowing bright green behind his glasses. Virgil, his eyes red instead of brown, grip Jackie's other hand.

"What're you boys doin'!?" demands Jackie.

"I've been waiting a mighty long time for this moment, Mr. Barrineau," says Tucker, controlled civil anger and outrage in his voice.

"Mr. Aldridge...?" whispers a slave ghost.

"He inside that boy," hisses another ghost.

"That's right," says Aldridge-Tucker. "Through him, I've got my tongue back. I can see again. And I've got my testicles again!"

_Oh, he's a Foley, all right,_ snorts Valerie mentally. _Aldridge chose the right fool to overshadow._

"You cut off a brother's nuts, Jackie," sneers Virgil. "Even for a cracker, you is straight-up fool to think we wouldn't seek revenge for that shit alone!"

Jackie struggles against the pair of Foleys. "Demetrius," he spits. "You is out of line, boy."

"No!" counters Demetrius-Virgil; he turns to the slave ghosts still holding Valerie. "What's the matter with ya'll!?" he demands. "There's only one of his big cracker ass, and about eighty or ninety of you. Just 'cause ya'll couldn't learn to read back in the day don't mean ya'll can't count!"

The slave ghosts grumble amongst themselves, some beginning to release their grip on Valerie.

Jackie snickers, then howls out a piercing Ghostly Wail, causing the slave ghosts pain and forcing Aldridge and Demetrius out of their hosts as Tucker and Virgil clutch their ears to shut out the Wail. Valerie also puts her hands over her ears.

"As you niggers only understand the fine and eloquent language of pain," says Jackie after ending the Wail, "it will be my pleasure to stand and deliver it."

"The bigger pain they are," roars the Phantom, hitting Jackie in the chest with an ecto blast, "the harder they fall!"

Jackie trembles, but remains standing. "Boy," he grins, "that might have ended me, if I had ever _died_...!"

The Phantom's eyes widen in shock and realization. "That fire you started...never _killed_ you..!?" he balks.

"That's right," says Jackie as his hair turns white and his eyes turn green. "I'm just like you, in so many ways."

Vlad slips away from the crowd of onlookers.

"Let me go!" Valerie demands of the slave ghosts. "Let me fight for you."

"Ain't nobody can beat Ol' Jackie," groans a ghost.

Plasmius appears in the sky. "I can beat him," he counters. "Considering who he looks like," he continues, glancing at Jack, "it would be my immense pleasure."

"You're helping me?" wonders the Phantom.

"Just like I held your hand when we fought Pariah Dark, my boy," smirks Plasmius. He fires a red ecto blast at Jackie.

* * *

Jackie grins ghoulishly at Plasmius and the Phantom, then pulls out a pair of nine-tail whips and flogs both halfas without mercy.

A slave ghost shrieks as Plasmius and the Phantom plummet to the ground.

"I cannot die!" crows Jackie. "Ain't none of you fixin' to steal my property from me."

"Why won't you fight?" cries Valerie, sorrow in her eyes as she looks to the slave ghosts restraining her. "Or let me fight if you don't think you can."

"Gal," sneers Jackie, brandishing a nine-tail whip, "those niggers know who got the whip hand of them. Nobody escapes me," he continues, laughing maniacally as he flogs Plasmius and the Phantom again, "alive or even dead."

Maddie scowls as she takes out an ecto rifle. Jazz hands Jack an ecto launcher.

"Ready, honey?" asks Jack, grim.

"We've got work to do, hon," says Maddie.

The Fenton couple nods, then charge at Jackie.

Jackie sends out a ring of spectral fire, forcing Jack and Maddie back.

_Mom! Dad!_ trembles Danny mentally. As the Phantom, he turns to the slave ghosts. "Listen," he says to the ghosts quietly, "as she's his descendant, you can lend Valerie Gray your strength."

"It won't work," says a ghost. "Damon done try that before."

"Seems like Jackie's too genre savvy, ghost," smirks Valerie.

"This is the most civil conversation we've ever had," grins the Phantom wryly.

"I want to kick your cute, scrawny ass for separate reasons," says Valerie. "And I will deny calling you 'cute' until my dying day."

"Hopefully we'll die of old age together," says the Phantom, winking at Valerie.

Valerie trembles, blushing slightly under the Phantom's gaze. "Don't get any crazy ideas, ghost!" she fumes. "We just have a common enemy at the moment."

"Fair enough, Miss Gray," says the Phantom.

Plasmius shakes as he nurses his wounds.

"Get going," the Phantom hisses to Plasmius. "You can barely sustain your ghost form."

"I warned you...didn't I...?" grins Plasmius ruefully.

"You forget whose son I actually am," says the Phantom, returning the grin. "You can help us more as a human than as a ghost."

"I leave this matter...to you, then..." says Plasmius as he vanishes.

* * *

Vlad, inside the makeshift shower, reverts to human form and collapses from his wounds.

Jazz notes the commotion; seeing Vlad prone on the ground, she takes out a first aid kit and bandages Vlad's wounds.

Vlad looks up at Jazz, stroking her cheek. "An angel of mercy," he sighs, "who looks so much like her mother."

"Don't start getting attracted to me," warns Jazz. "I'm young enough to be your daughter."

"Had your mother married me like she was supposed to," smirks Vlad, "you would _be_ my daughter, and you wouldn't have Jackson Barrineau, a contemptible piece of aged halfa shit, in your family tree."

"You have a daughter that you tried to kill," counters Jazz, tying a bandage tightly.

Vlad winces. "The little ingrate betrayed me," he scowls.

"Only after you tried to kill her," says Jazz.

"Don't annoy me with details, child," pouts Vlad. He slips on a black _Axion_ hazmat suit to cover his wounds as Damon and Shane approach him and Jazz.

"Mr. Masters," says Damon, "do you have any ideas on dousing that flame?"

"I'd say, Mr. Gray," says Vlad with a rueful smirk, "that it's time to deploy the scapegoat." He looks to Shane.

Shane pinches the bridge of his nose. "Dash is gonna maul me," he says, "but we don't have a choice."

"Especially if Jackie is still alive," adds Damon.

"I'm on it," says Shane.

"You don't have to do this," says Dash to Sam, glowering at Shane.

"You're a voracious omnivore," counters Sam, "which means you eat meat. You can't carry the sacrificial offering," she continues, placing the blood bags into an earthenware bowl.

"But that's my sacrificial offering!" balks Dash.

"And Shane couldn't locate a sheep or goat to carry your blood into that," says Sam, pointing sharply at the chaos inside Barrineau Plantation, "on short notice. Besides," she continues, "I'm Jewish. It's my people's job to be the scapegoat."

"I thought you all were the chosen people," scoffs Dash.

"Your precious 'Baby Jesus' was a Jew, remember?" quips Sam. "A lousy one, but we still have to claim him."

"Manson..." begins Dash.

Sam briefly kisses Dash. "I'll be back," she grins after breaking the kiss. "Someone has to point out your stupidity when school starts." She leaves with the bowl and blood bags.

Dash glares at Shane. "You told me that was a last resort," he says.

"We're at that point," says Shane. "We can't let Barrineau run free."

"If anything happens to her, Shane," says Dash, sullen, "I won't forgive you." Dash walks off.

* * *

NEXT: A cleansing of souls.


	10. A drop of rain

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

8\. A drop of rain...

The group of ghosts, over Barrineau Plantation, look down at the chaos below.

"Will it work?" asks Bessie.

Dashiell drinks a bottle of ghostly root beer. "Shane had better pray that it does," he says.

"He wouldn't be the first one to pray, _goyim_," says a slender, dark-haired teenage male in simple black attire with a white shirt, wearing a wide-brimmed black hat.

"I just reckon, Hoss, that considering my clan's general temperament," says Dashiell, "that boy scion of mine done overlooked a lot."

"We all stand in need of prayer," says A. T., carrying Aldridge on his back.

Demetrius limps over to the group of ghosts. "That's Mr. Hoss' little girl down there," he grins. "I heard she fought off a dragon."

"I think the dragon started to get sweet on her," quips Hoss, tipping his hat. "What they're doing is technically witchcraft," he continues, "but I'd figure that _Adonai_ will be hearing from Joe before He can give my family any crap."

"I hear that your boy Joe's an even worse Jew than Baby Jesus," grins Dashiell.

"No," says a prim, auburn-haired girl, "that would be Samson. Joseph has made his peace with _Adonai_."

"That li'l slip of a girl looks so much like you, Miss Judy," says Dashiell, taking off his hat.

"I'd hope so," says Hoss, with a smirk, "considering the girl's mother was named after Judith."

* * *

The ring of Jackie's flames abates as Sam walks through it.

Jack and Maddie run past Sam with their weapons charged and Specter Deflectors armed.

Kneeling, Sam quietly sets down the earthenware bowl, takes the blood bags out of the bowl, then begins chanting as she opens a blood bag, pouring the contents into the bowl.

Maddie fires at Jackie's head. "That'll teach you to possess my husband and mention 'hairy oysters' ever again," she seethes.

Jackie touches his cheek, noting a mix of blood and ectoplasm. He glares at Maddie and Jack. "Jack-boy," he glowers, "you'd better take a strong hand on your woman, if you know what's for her own good."

"You'd better leave Mrs. Fenton alone," counters the Phantom, gaining strength and resolve.

"You ain't got no power here, boy!" spits Jackie, whipping the Phantom with a nine-tail whip.

The Phantom catches eight of the nine whips on the nine-tail whip, with the remaining whip landing harmlessly on the Phantom's cheek. "You hit like the Box Ghost," he sneers.

Jackie's eyes widen as he realizes his position. "What's goin' on here!?" he snarls. "I'm getting weaker."

The slave ghosts, discovering their spectral chains broken, separate from their mass into individual ghosts as they release Valerie.

One ghost looks at Tucker. "Li'l Alvin," she whispers.

Tucker adjusts his glasses. "You...can't mean me, ma'am," he says. "I'm Alvin Tucker Foley the Fourth."

"Mother!" cries A. T., in the sky with Bessie, Dashiell, Demetrius, Aldridge, and Hoss. "You're free of him! You're all free of him!"

"I told you it would happen, Jeanette-girl!" adds Demetrius, tears streaming down his face as he embraces Aldridge. "I done swore to Almighty God that it would!"

Another ghost helps Valerie to her feet. "You look so much like Mama," she says, stroking Valerie's cheek. "So strong and proud."

"Girl even sound like Miss Creechie," grins a slave ghost.

"Lucretia Gray. And you're her daughter; Bessie's mama: Countess," says Valerie gravely.

Countess smiles, tears in her eyes.

"Ghost!" Valerie says to the Phantom, her suit glowing. "Let's finish the work Lucretia started."

Backing away, Jackie looks around wildly for the source of his power drain; he notes Sam, chanting as she pours the contents of a second blood bag into the earthenware bowl.

Sam gazes into Jackie's eyes, calmly regarding the halfa plantation owner.

"What you mutterin' about, girl?" hisses Jackie as he looms over Sam.

"Muttering?" asks Sam. "I was reciting a psalm."

"That ain't no psalm," spits Jackie. "That's some kind of spell."

"Hardly," snorts Sam, "unless you think that David was a warlock shepherd." She resumes chanting.

"What does David, the king of ancient Israel," demands Jackie, "have to do with your gibbering tongue, gal!?"

"I do believe that _HaShem_, unlike you, is literate in modern Hebrew," says Sam. "To be fair, though," she continues, smirking at Jackie, "you would only recognize it in your crappy Early Modern English translation."

Jackie stares at Sam a moment, then raises his hand to strike Sam with the nine-tail whip.

Sam restarts her chant in English as she pours in the blood from the last blood bag.

_The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want._

_He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters._

_He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake._

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._

_Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over._

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever._

"The..._**Twenty-third Psalm**_!?" balks Jackie. "I ain't fixin' to be stripped of my power by some gal chantin' _**Bible**_ verses!" He attacks Sam, only to hit an impenetrable barrier.

"Maybe the Lord is tryin' to tell you somethin', Jackie," grins Mary Jane.

"Lord or no Lord," adds the Phantom, "did you think you could abuse your power, and get away clean?"

"I been waitin' for this reckonin' a long time, Jackie Barrineau," says a ghost, appearing next to Valerie and Countess.

"Lucretia Gray herself," breathes Bethea.

"Too many have waited, Grandmama," says Bessie, joining Lucretia, Countess, and Valerie, "for far too long."

* * *

"You think that y'all just going to gang up on me?" sneers Jackie. "I'll rest and wait. I'm real patient."

Dash walks up to Jackie. "But that doesn't make sense," he says.

"Dash, what are you doing!?" spits Valerie.

"Stay out of this, Gray," Dash scowls. "The way I figure it," he says to Jackie, "this place is going to be crawling with all kinds of ghost hunters until you leave, and you'll just get weaker and punier until you look more like Danny Fenton than like Jack Fenton."

"What you recommendin', Baxter?" asks Jackie.

"You could just agree to enter this Thermos," grins Dash as he pulls out a Fenton Thermos, "but I doubt you'd do that. The Fentons will bring you back to _Fenton Works_ and vivisect your ass."

Jackie touches his chin.

Jack pulls a handgun from a hidden holster.

"But, if you overshadowed a willing host," continues Dash, "say, a young man who has only just begun to approach his peak, then you'd have time to rest and let your powers rejuvenate...inside a perfect human shield."

"I take it that you're offering yourself to me?" asks Jackie. "Why should I deign to inhabit your low-bred body?"

Dash smirks. "Because, shithead," he says, "I'm your only way out of this alive." He turns off his Specter Deflector and removes it from his waist.

"Beggars can't be choosers, indeed, Baxter," says Jackie, grinning crudely. He prepares to overshadow Dash...

...but Jack fires his gun through Jackie's chest.

Jackie clutches his chest, then looks at his blood and ectoplasm-stained hands in disbelief. He falls over and dies, his body and soul disintergrating completely.

"Somehow," says Jack, grim, "_**Ezekiel 18:4**_ is the best fit here."

Everyone, even the ghosts, stare at Jack in shock.

Dash shrugs after a moment. "I guess that's the last thing a guy with ghost powers would expect an opponent to try on him," he says.

"Exactly," says Jack with a grin. "I told you all at the beginning that I had this under control."

* * *

A old red pickup truck marked _POINDEXTER HARDWARE_ drives into Barrineau Plantation. A spindly, dark-haired teenager wearing thick glasses and a bowl cut leaps out of the truck.

"What are you doin' here, Alan?" asks Shane.

"Shut it, Baxter," says Alan, annoyed. "Not that I care if _you_ die," he continues, "but these other people don't deserve to get killed."

"By what, dude?" wonders Virgil.

"A hurricane's comin' in fast!" spits Alan.

The Peach Creek High football team laughs at Alan.

"Don't y'all chilin' laugh, now!" frowns Mary Jane. "My arthritis only starts actin' up when it's 'bout to rain somewhere," she continues, nursing her wrist, "and it ain't never acted up here in Oglethorpe Springs before."

A mass of cumulonimbus clouds passes overhead, lightning arcing within the clouds.

"This ought to be amusing," says Sam as she carefully pours the blood out of the bowl. "These storms tend to pass over us without..." Sam trails off, noting a cool drop of water splash on her forehead.

"...a drop of rain..." finishes Dash, feeling several drops on his face.

Rain begins to fall in earnest, punctuated by a fork of lightning striking the burnt-out ruins of the Barrineau mansion and a near-simultaneous thunderclap.

"Told you," says Alan, scowling.

"The curse is lifted," says Bethea, smiling blissfully. "Hallelujah, the curse is lifted!"

* * *

NEXT: The glory of the coming of the Lord.


	11. If Providence sees

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

9\. If Providence sees me as fit for judgment...

The eye of the storm arrives, moving over Baxter Farm towards Barrineau Plantation.

"I think we should check it out," says Danny, trembling with a strange feeling of delight and jubilee.

"With the vast amount of spectral phenomena we've witnessed," adds Vlad, filled with the same thrill as Danny, "I can imagine the data that needs to be documented."

Jack nods; everyone in the house exits.

Sitting outside on the porch, Shane grins, drenched to the bone.

"I brought some dry clothes," says Dash. "Put them on, dude."

"Not going to wring them out into a cooler?" asks Sam, averting her eyes as Shane changes into the dry clothes.

"I still can't believe," chuckles Shane, wiping water from his eye, "that I won't have to do that shit anymore."

Dash opens the door to Shane's SUV. "Believe and see, Shane," he grins.

Shane musses Dash's hair. "You're missin' your halo, boy," he says as he enters his SUV and scoots into the driver's seat.

"I'm sure you meant horns," quips Sam, leaving for Bethea's SUV.

"Oh, I've got a horn for you, Manson," sneers Dash.

"Get in the truck, Dash," says Shane, tugging onto Dash's T-shirt.

"You don't have to preserve my flower anymore," scoffs Dash as he sits in the passenger side of the SUV.

"No," quips Shane, "but I still feel obligated to cock-block you on her parents' behalf."

"It's a miracle," sighs Mary Jane as she prepares to climb into Bethea's SUV.

"To be honest, Mrs. Foley," says Danny, helping Mary Jane into the back of the SUV, "the 'mills of God' could have gone a bit faster."

"Boy," says Mary Jane, "try to imagine lettin' your mama and daddy solve your problems, instead of just workin' it all out on your own."

Danny studies his parents, glancing between Jack and Maddie as they board the FFAV, and Shane's SUV. "I think I have an idea of what you're getting at," he says, "even though I disagree."

"We done had the Civil War," says Mary Jane soberly, "because we didn't want our Heavenly Father to come down on us to fix our problems. You might not believe what's in this book," she continues, shaking her _**Bible**_, "but you read it."

The vehicles drive toward Barrineau Plantation.

"Ten plagues would be a bit much," grins Danny.

"When we ate of the fruit of the tree that was in the midst of the garden," says Vlad, riding in Bethea's SUV with Danny, "that was us asserting our independence from God. Fighting our own battles," he continues, "is part of the price we must pay for our independence from our parents, earthly or heavenly."

"Where does the snake come into play?" asks Danny.

"The snake was set up to take the fall," says Vlad, "to give us something to blame. That's what human beings do best, Daniel: shift the blame."

Mary Jane cackles. "And that's why God, knowing what He created before we was ever formed, set in motion the plan to have His Son for us to shift all of the blame onto."

"So that's Christianity in a nutshell," snorts Danny. "Point to Jesus and say 'he did it'!"

"If you choose to accept Him as your Lord and Savior," says Mary Jane.

"It's closer to 'I did it, but He paid the price for it before I was ever born to do it'," says Damon, driving the SUV, "'so I won't do it anymore if you'll just forgive me, God'."

Valerie grins at Danny, seated in the front passenger seat next to her father.

"Maybe I'm one of those wise people this theology exists to confound," says Danny.

The group reaches Barrineau Plantation, exiting various vehicles.

"It's best to live and let live," says Damon, "no matter how absurd the philosophy may seem."

Jack opens the gate; everyone enters the plantation.

* * *

"Shit..." drawls Alan, staring at the eye of the hurricane. "This is one fucked-up hurricane eye."

"So many rainbows," says Dash, in awe. "I almost expect to see a blonde girl on a horse with a rainbow-colored mane or a bunch of teddy bears on clouds."

"Your parents must have taped a bunch of old Eighties cartoons and let you watch them as a kid," snorts Danny.

"They have _**Rainbow Brite**_ on video!?" squeals Maddie, grabbing Dash's arms. "It's one of my favorites!"

"My mom's favorite Color Kid was Lala Orange," says Dash, flabbergasted by Maddie's enthusiasm. "I was more into Buddy Blue myself."

"Naturally," mutters Sam. "He was the sports nut. And my mom was just as oddly-fascinated with _**Rainbow Brite**_. She thinks the Care Bears," she continues, "can go straight to hell with their mind-control tummy beams, though. I'm personally fond of Grumpy Bear."

"Why? Because he's a surly grouch?" asks Dash.

"He keeps shit real in Care-A-Lot," quips Sam. "Keeps guys like Tenderheart and Braveheart from abusing their powers."

"Let's stay focused, everyone," Jack grins wryly, putting on a pair of spectral goggles. "We've got a lot of footage to record."

"Indeed!" adds Vlad, struggling to keep his ghost sense hidden.

Danny, shivering, drops to his haunches to conceal his ghost sense. He looks up at the eye of the storm, a ring of storm clouds and rainbows. "I'm seeing it," he whispers, "and I still don't believe it."

The former slave ghosts look up into the eye of the hurricane, crying as they dance in relief and ecstasy.

"Ghosts shoutin' and praisin' God," smiles Bethea.

* * *

Rays of sunlight pierce through some of the clouds, mixing with the rainbows to create an ethereal effect. The ghosts rush headlong into the eye, the sheer force creating a spectral vortex.

"It's like an inverse ghost tornado!" says Jack, amazed as he records the footage with the Fenton Spectral Camcorder.

Danny trembles, feeling the overwhelming desire to join the ghosts.

Vlad grabs Danny. "No, my boy," he hisses into Danny's ear, equally giddy. "Don't get caught up in their enthusiasm."

"They're so happy," Danny gasps, breathless as tears of joy trail his cheeks.

"Imagine being freed from hell, Daniel," says Vlad. "For them, it was real...and its devil was killed."

"My dad killed an empirically-verifiable Satan with a pistol," grins Danny.

"Jack has his moments," smirks Vlad.

"You know, deep down," whispers Danny, "that he's the most awesome friend you'll ever have."

"And yet I will never quit coveting his wife and family," says Vlad quietly. "I'm well aware of my own sins, Daniel," he continues. "I won't repent of them."

Bessie takes Lucretia and Countess' hands and leads them into the light. The three Gray ghosts smile at Valerie in gratitude.

"I just helped," says Valerie, "to finish the work you had started."

Damon draws Valerie to his side, tears in his eyes.

Lucretia and Countess rise into the light. Bessie walks toward Danny and Vlad.

"You aren't joining them?" wonders Danny.

"I still got work to do," whispers Bessie. "Somebody got to keep an eye on you both."

"I understand Vlad," says Danny, "but why me? Haven't I proven that I'm one of the good guys?"

"What you prove to me, Daniel," says Bessie, "is that you is a lot of trouble. I'm goin' back to Amity Park to protect Valerie."

Danny chuckles, then looks into Bessie's eyes. "I'll behave, ma'am," he says, "and I'll keep him in line." He nods to Vlad.

"A lot of people got they eye on you," says Bessie, "so you better mind, Daniel Fenton." She vanishes.

"She done told you," quips Vlad.

"Never attempt to speak African-American Vernacular English again," pouts Danny.

Two ghostly antebellum Southern gentlemen and a prim brunette somewhat resembling Jazz arrive.

"The Barrineau clan," whispers Jack.

The younger gentleman, resembling a taller and older Danny, tips his silk hat to Jack, then Danny. The Barrineaus approach the light.

"Whatever His final verdict may be," says the eldest Barrineau, "let us stand before His divine judgment." The three Barrineaus all gravely enter the light.

* * *

The light changes Aldridge's ghostly form, restoring his lost eye; Aldridge stands taller, straighter.

"D...daddy!" cries Jeanette.

"Please, hush, Jeanette," says Aldridge softly, smiling. He walks to a peach tree, shaking the shoulder of a bedraggled, chained ghost.

Danny approaches Aldridge and the other ghost, followed by Tucker.

"Don't you want to join the others?" asks Tucker.

"I just wanted to let Mr. Middleton know," says Aldridge, nodding to the other ghost, "that his debts are repaid."

"This guy?" wonders Danny. "I've been wondering why he was sitting here like a homeless Vietnam vet since I was a kid!"

"Vietnam?" mutters Mr. Middleton. "Of what war do you speak, young man, and in which nation?"

"Uh, Vietnam's the nation," says Danny, "and we had fought a war there years ago. It wasn't one of our better military moments. Now," he continues, "I'm going to ask you one more time: who are you, and why are you sitting here in chains with a bayonet?"

Tucker studies Mr. Middleton. "He looks familiar," he says, touching his chin. "Judging by the clothes, I'd say he lived during the 1700s."

"Indeed," smiles Mr. Middleton crisply. "I had passed on as a relative pauper, and I wanted to know how Mr. Aldridge Foley's family had gotten on during the years. When I learned the fate of Mr. Aldridge Tucker Foley," Mr. Middleton continues, nodding to Aldridge, "and how grievously he had been denied the freedom-which his forefather, my earthly savior had long earned-by Jackson Barrineau, I swore that I would not move or loose myself from this spot: where the proof of the recently expired Mr. Barrineau's perfidy is contained herein."

Jack approaches the two teenagers and two ghosts. "Danny," he says, noting Mr. Middleton, "that's our 'immovable chained ghost hobo'."

"I, good sir," says Mr. Middleton curtly, "am named Arthur Middleton, of Charles Towne in Carolina."

"You can go haunt Charleston, then," says Tucker.

"Or go and meet Providence," Danny scoffs, pointing at the light-imbued eye of the hurricane.

"If Providence sees me as fit for judgment," says Mr. Middleton, "but not until this is opened by the one who shut it." Mr. Middleton stands, revealing a carefully-hidden trap door.

Aldridge silently directs Tucker to open the trap door; Tucker complies, with help from Danny and Jack. Tucker and Danny enter the underground room, followed by A. T.; Jeanette, Alvin, and their older brothers Simon and Theodore enter after A. T. and the teenage boys. Aldridge and Demetrius, standing with Aldridge's wife, join the other Foley ghosts below.

Mr. Middleton stands guard, blocking Jack.

Jack scratches his head. "So," he says sheepishly, "what was it like being a prisoner of war during your time?"

Mr. Middleton sighs. "My apologies, Mr. Fenton," he says. "I fear that my privations have made me rather uncivil."

"It's okay," says Jack. "I understand why," he continues, displaying his now-shaven self. "I'm just worried about my son."

"He will come to no harm," says Mr. Middleton.

"Of course not," says Jack. "He's got Tucker for a friend."

Mr. Middleton smiles. "He carries his family's name well," he says.

* * *

Inside the underground room, Tucker notes a slightly-rusted lockbox. "How long has this been down here?" he wonders, picking it up.

"How do we open it?" asks Danny.

Aldridge reveals the key, hidden under a layer of dirt where the lockbox once stood.

Tucker picks up the key and unlocks the lockbox, discovering documents. He switches on the light on his PDA. "It looks...like some kind of contract," Tucker says.

Danny squints at the documents. "It was signed by..." he says, trying to make out the signatures, "Aldridge Foley, Arthur Middleton, and...Edward Rutledge, Esquire...?"

"We should take it upstairs..." Tucker trails off, noting a young woman studying an old grayish-white blanket and an empty leather canteen.

Danny's ghost sense goes off. "Why does that woman look so much like...me?" he wonders.

"That's twice, then," muses the woman, looking at A. T., "that you've saved me from perdition...and twice that I didn't even recognize it for what it was: undeserved mercy and friendship."

"At the first," says A. T., "you were an innocent infant, and at the second, an innocent woman. Your father's sins were never yours to bear, Danielle."

"And I, your humble descendant," says Danny, "won't let the Baxters and the Grays run us out of town with torches and pitchforks...or in Valerie's case, ghost-hunting equipment."

"And how can you be so certain, Jackson Daniel Fenton the Second?" asks Danielle.

"Because my gift is a burden and responsibility I must carry with honor," says Danny gravely.

"Good," says Danielle primly. "Because I'll be in Amity Park with Miss Bessie-if for no other reason than to clear up any misunderstandings."

"With all due respect, ma'am," says Danny, "my parents are both above-ground and perfectly capable of keeping me behaved. As far as misunderstandings go," he continues, "I guess it's a matter of hoping she had matured enough through life to look past your name and see you for who you really are."

Above-ground, Maddie stands alongside Jack, stroking his cheek.

"I was supposed to shave my mountain-man beard when I came home, you know," Jack quips.

"I don't think either of us anticipated the absence of ontological inertia required for a supernatural hurricane to hit a cursed town immediately, hon," says Maddie.

"The eye's going to pass over soon," says Jack.

Danny emerges from the underground room, followed by Tucker holding the lockbox. The Foley clan and Danielle float out after the two teenage boys.

* * *

Apart from the group, Vlad speaks with an auburn-haired ghost. "Why are you afraid?" he asks.

"I...I should have seen what was happening," says the ghost. "I should have found a way to stop Jackie."

"Speaking from personal experience, Mrs. Barrineau...may I call you Jill Ann?" asks Vlad, smiling at the ghost due to her strong resemblance to Maddie.

Jill Ann nods.

"What I must say is that Jackie threw open the doors of his heart to darkness," Vlad continues, "long before you and he crossed paths."

"What are you saying, Mr. Masters?" asks Jill Ann.

"Let's be responsible human beings!" says Vlad. "Let's not seek to blame one another...or ourselves. I would, if I were you, go into that light knowing that you were a woman joined to a grievously-flawed man."

"Are you speaking of Jackie," asks Jill Ann cannily, pointing her gloved hand towards Jack, "or our garishly-dressed descendant?"

Vlad smirks. "You know my heart all too well, Jill Ann," he says. "I see some of Jack, and even some of Daniel in you."

"I loved Jackie," says Jill Ann. "In spite of everything, that is one matter of which I cannot repent. Though you're terribly faithless as a friend," she continues, "even someone like you would have been Jackie's salvation."

"I'm not certain why. Jack Fenton," says Vlad, "is undoubtedly the nicest guy I know. It's one of the reasons he infuriates me."

"You, Mr. Masters," says Jill Ann, "are a living opportunity for _both_ Jackson Daniels to practice the arts of compassion and humility. That makes you a better friend to them both than they realize."

Vlad stares at Jill Ann.

Jill Ann opens her parasol, then glances longingly at Danielle, Jack, and Danny with an expression of regret.

Danielle smiles at Jill Ann.

Danny stares at Jill Ann. "Why is she looking at us like that, Dad?" he asks.

"I...have no idea," says Jack.

"It's a feminine thing," says Maddie. "Maybe she feels she's failed as a wife and mother."

"Jackie failed himself and her," say Jack and Danny in unison, startling themselves.

Resolute, Jill Ann walks into the light. "I ask your forgiveness," she says to everyone assembled, "for any pain I may have caused you all."

"Lady," says Shane, "you were truly Jackie Barrineau's better half. He was just too rock stupid to realize it."

"Seeing as all men suffer from that malady to a degree," adds Damon, "that simply made your husband all too human."

"Go on, Mrs. Barrineau," says Mary Jane. "We forgave white folk a long time ago," she continues, "just as God forgave us before our sins were ever committed."

"And if God is actually up there," adds Danny, "please ask him how that's supposed to work!"

"Daniel!" reproves Jill Ann as she ascends into the eye of the storm. "There is a book you've read on the subject."

"Yeah," grins Danny, "but it's pretty obtuse."

Jack and Maddie pout at Danny; Danny elbows Jack, then winks at both of his parents as he waves goodbye to Jill Ann.

Vlad studies Jack, Maddie, and Danny, a mixture of envy and yearning in his eyes. He glances at Jack's handgun. "_Requiesce in pace et nihilo_, Jackson," he says. "I can't be your descendant's friend," he continues, walking to his _Axion_ minivan, "but I will be his brother in all but blood-even though I must forever be the Cain to his Abel." Vlad boards his minivan as it arrives via remote control, then drives off.

* * *

NEXT: United we stand.


	12. Our family is united again

**Green Eyes on the Prize**

byline: _Anubis C. Soundwave_

10\. Our family is united again.

The Foley clan of ghosts congregates in the light. Aldridge and Demetrius join hands. Tucker rushes over to Mary Jane and Virgil; the three living Foleys approach their spectral kin.

"After so long," says Aldridge, "our family is united again."

"United and restored," smiles Mary Jane, trembling.

"Don't join them too soon, Grandmama," says Virgil, placing an arm around Mary Jane.

"That ain't up to me, child," says Mary Jane. "That will be decided by the Lord."

Virgil nods.

"If..." begins Tucker, "...any of you pass by Amity Park, then pay us a visit."

A. T. smiles, but shakes his head. "No," he says. "I believe that I have left Amity Park in strong and capable hands. Like any town, it has its problems," he continues, "but I know you all can handle it."

"Let us sing a hymn," says Aldridge.

"Sing this one here," says Mary Jane. "_When peace, like a river, attendeth my way..._" she begins.

After allowing Mary Jane to start off the opening verse, Virgil finishes it off. "_...my lot, Thou hast taught me to know...it is well, it is well, with my soul..._" he sings.

Aldridge nods, allowing Mary Jane and Virgil to lead off the refrain as he joins them, along with Jeanette and Demetrius.

Tucker starts to open his mouth to sing.

"Not you, Tucker," say the Foleys in unison to Tucker.

"You just keep time, boy," adds Mary Jane. "Clap your hands."

"...yes, ma'am," frowns Tucker. He claps as the other Foleys, living and dead, sing; the ghost Foleys rise into the eye of the storm.

Mr. Middleton nods, then casts off his tattered robe; his chains fall off. "I believe that I shall rest back at my grave now that this business is concluded," he says, relieved as he dusts himself off, "until the proper day of judgment is upon us-presupposing such is the will of Providence, of course." He nods briefly at Dash and Shane, then vanishes.

Shane whistles. "That guy was one of the signers of the _**Declaration of Independence**_," he says. "He wasn't as lucky as the guys on our money," Shane continues, "but he pledged his life, his fortune, and his sacred honor."

Tucker takes out the Middleton Contract, presenting it to Shane.

"Edward Rutledge too?" Shane grins after reading the document.

"Who is he?" wonders Tucker, "Aside from being a lawyer?"

"One of the other signers from South Carolina," says Shane, "and that state's first governor. Tucker, you've got yourself a historical document!"

The eye passes.

"And you'd better put the damn thing back in that box quick," continues Shane.

Tucker nods, placing the Middleton Contract back inside the lockbox.

"Back to the vehicles," says Jack, "before we get rained on!"

"I never thought I'd live to see the day," says Bethea, "when we'd say that."

Everyone boards their vehicles and drives back to Baxter Farm.

* * *

A month later, back in Amity Park, the first day of school is about to begin.

Danny and Tucker arrive at Sam's mansion as she exits with her book bag.

Dani lands just ahead of them, clutching her book bag.

Danny scowls. "What did I tell you," he hisses, "about using your powers out in the open?"

"Not to do it," says Dani apologetically, "but I don't want to be late. 'No Fenton has ever been late to school', you know. I don't want to buck the family trend."

"You're going to learn," says Danny, grinning, "that you shouldn't always take 'Uncle Jack' seriously."

Dani blinks at Danny.

"But I will admit," Danny continues, "that's it's difficult to tell when you shouldn't and you should."

Dani touches her chin a moment, then gently elbows Tucker. "Is it true that Dash buried a cow?" she asks.

Tucker nods, frowning in grief.

"It was a beautiful service for a faithful family friend," says Sam.

"It was a waste of good beef!" spits Tucker.

"It's like Kathleen said," says Danny, "'you don't eat family'."

"The _family member's_ name was 'Steak'," mutters Tucker. "It was her destiny to be eaten, not buried."

"Then fuck destiny," smirks Sam. "Steak was the most awesome cow ever, and likely one of the more sensible members of the Baxter family. Compared to the absurdities I've witnessed from Dash and his family over the years," she continues, "a funeral for the family cow is perfectly sane."

"That's probably how you want _all_ cows to go," snorts Dani.

"If it will make you feel better, Tucker," says Sam, "the grass that is finally going to grow at Baxter Farm will eat well; as will the earthworms: who will turn Steak into nourishing soil for all of the food the farm grows."

"I outgrew _**The Lion King**_ philosophy some time ago," says Tucker, pouting. "Steak was supposed to be cut up or ground into hamburger, grilled, and served to me on a plate."

Danny and Sam chuckle.

"I can't believe I missed that adventure," says Dani. "Why didn't you call or text me? I got great cell coverage back in Reno."

"Vlad was there," says Danny.

"Great," grins Dani ruefully. "I could have beat up the cheesehead if he caused any problems."

"We had bigger fish to fry," counters Danny, "and I'm glad that one's gone."

"Aren't you worried, though?" asks Sam. "Your dad has a weapon that can kill a halfa."

Danny gives Sam a grim smile as he nods. "Good. If I ever turn into anything like Jackie Barrineau," he says, "I want to be stopped."

Dani blinks.

"The same goes for you-and definitely for Plasmius," continues Danny, looking at Dani.

Dani whistles. "I guess this is what you mean," she says, "when you said that it's hard to tell when you should take Uncle Jack seriously."

Danny nods.

The four teenagers arrive at Casper High.

"To the trailers to finish off junior high," grins Dani. "This could be fun." She leaves Danny, Tucker, and Sam.

"When will the city just rebuild the middle school?" snorts Tucker.

"Sometime after never," says Sam. "You know that old man Baxter is a living, one-man anti-middle school crusade."

"I also know that 'old man Baxter' is an asshole who passed his jerkass bullying gene over to his grandson...who's headed this way," grins Danny, oddly calm.

Dash approaches the trio, mussing Danny's hair. "Fenton," he sneers, "I'm going to paste you later today for being a no-show during that ghost haunting at your ancestor's place. What kind of weak-ass kid wusses out and doesn't support his parents during their darkest hour?"

Danny places his hand on Dash's shoulder. "I know it seems that you're right," he says, "but rest assured that I was there in spirit." Danny walks away.

Dash stares at Danny a moment, confused. Tucker blinks, then follows Danny.

"Don't overthink it," says Sam. "Just remember that we have rich blackmail material to play with this year," she adds with a smirk.

Dash looks into Sam's eyes briefly, then returns the smirk. "I've got to cram the little bastard into a locker, though, Manson," he says, "just to bring things back to _normal_ between us."

"It's fair enough," says Sam, "to give normalcy a shot." She shrugs, then walks off after Danny and Tucker.

Dash shakes his head, snickering, then leaves to meet with his friends.

**THE END**

AN: I hope everyone enjoyed this prequel to SEVEN YEAR JOCK ITCH. It's a side adventure, set a week or two after the vanilla DP ep REALITY TRIP (featuring Freakshow).

Any questions or comments? I look forward to them in the reviews!

Take care.

acsound


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